I Don't Want to Forget
by books-are-better
Summary: Modern Day, AU. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark have been best friends for the past five years, and they've been through the good and the bad together. But after a drunken night, Katniss realizes she has feelings for him that she never wanted to admit to herself. But does he feel the same?
1. Chapter 1

"I love you—more than I thought possible. Will you marry me?"

Peeta kneels down on one knee, his bright blue eyes looking up at me with hope as I stand in the middle of the kitchen. Shit, the ring his huge!

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" I chirp, trying to sound as giddy as possible. "I want you to pound your tiny dick into me, every day, for the rest of my life!"

Peeta's eyebrows furrow, and he stands up, looking at me with serious eyes—but his mouthed is morphed into a grin. "Kat, seriously, I have a giant pole." His face flushes at his joke. He's never really says anything "dirty."

"How would I know that?" I ask, raising one of my eyebrows, giving him my patented "just try and fight me on this one, Mellark" look.

"Because we've gone skinny-dipping like a hundred times together!"

"Well, I never checked you out." I shake my head, laughing silently. Then I pause. "Wait, did you check me out?"

He grins, manically, his face still red. "You have a mole on your ass." He grunts loudly when my fist connects with his left bicep.

"It's a freckle!" I yell.

He rolls his eyes. "But all penis jokes aside, did you think that was good?"

I nod my head. "Oh, yeah. It's just gooey enough, without being too over-the-top, which you know is something you have a tendency to do." I smirk at him, and he gives me a small smile, his cheeks redden even more as he scratches his head in embarrassment, his blonde hair flopping around on his head. "I'm sure Madge will love it."

His blue eyes shimmer at me. "You're sure?"

I roll my eyes. "Peeta, yeah. I'm sure. Go relax somewhere before your big dinner. Maybe jack-off so you aren't all hyped up and nervous."

He grimaces at me. "You are one weird girl. Who suggests that their best friend should go wank himself?"

Peeta and I have been friends, best friends, for almost five years. We met our first year at Capitol University during a stupid baking class my sister convinced me to take—since I was living alone, and couldn't hunt like I used to when I lived in the country; Peeta taught the class. He's only a year older than me, but he's extremely mature for some reason, and acts like a thirty year old most of the time. But sometimes, I can get him to act like the 23 year old like he is. However, I couldn't make him act his age when it came to this engagement—I mean, no 23 year old guy wants to get married. He wouldn't budge. He wants to marry Madge, his girlfriend of almost two years, and I can't stop him. I understand that she makes him happy, but for some reason, my gut is telling me that he shouldn't go through with it. So I haven't brought it up to him since the first time ended with a huge fight that lasted almost two weeks, and avoiding someone you live with is so fucking complicated and difficult. I've tried to be supportive, tried being the operative word; I'm not very good at "support." I'm not really good at anything involving "emotions."

I shrug my shoulders. "Me, I guess. And you might as well get used to it. I hear the sex goes as soon as the honeymoon is over. So your left hand shame might be the only action you get."

He shakes his head. "I repeat: you are a weird girl. But you're right in one way—I should try to go relax." He walks over to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. "I'm gonna go lie down. Try to take a nap or something." He nods his head at me, and exits the kitchen. I give him a half-smile.

Shit, he should not do this.

* * *

Peeta left for the restaurant around five, after I inspected his attire. He looked quite handsome in his grey blazer and blue button-up tucked into his deep brown corduroys, and I nodded my approval; he gave me one of his knee-weakening smiles.

It's not until 11:00, six hours after Peeta left that I hear keys turn into the lock as I lay on the couch, watching reruns of _Saved by the Bell._ I furrow my eyebrows; I wasn't expecting Peeta home tonight. I figured he and Madge would be knocking boots in celebration of their engagement.

But that thought flies right out of my mind when I see Peeta. His shirt his untucked and rumpled, his hair is sticking up all over the place as if he had been pulling on it and he's only wearing one shoe; his face is etched in sadness—desperate, heart wrenching sadness. I jump up off the couch and run over to him as he stands in the doorway.

"Peety, what the hell happened?" I set my hand on his chest, and look up into his eyes; they're dark, almost black. Oh, shit. The last time I saw his eyes like that, his childhood dog had died.

"I love it when you call me Peety," he mumbles, his voice garbled with spit. It's my nickname for him—I'm the only one allowed to use it. But I only use it in extreme cases.

"What happened?" I repeat. "Did she say no? Tell me, please?" My voice is so desperate I barely recognize it.

He shakes his head. "I didn't propose."

"I'm so sorry, Peety. I know you wanted to do that. Maybe another night?"

He shakes his head again. "I saw her."

"Saw her what?"

He moves away from me, out of the foyer and plops himself down on the couch, rolling himself into a ball on his side. I turn off the TV and sit on the floor next to him, my face a few inches from his.

"I got there early, because I was so excited—almost a half an hour. And I used the key she gave me, like always, and I saw her." He takes a shaky breath as a tear seeps out of his left eye and trails down the side of his nose until it falls to the red cushion of the couch. "She was on the couch, her legs open and _he_…" he trails off, and more tears fall down his face.

My heart clenches for him. He doesn't deserve this. He is the kindest, gentlest, greatest man in this entire fucked up planet. No one is good enough for him. I clench my teeth, ready to punch Madge and everyone she's ever met. "Who?" I ask, interested in why his tone changed when he said "he," like he knew him or something.

His removes his gaze from the white carpet and locks eyes with me. "Gale, Katniss. She was fucking Gale."

My breath hitches, and the entire world get fuzzy as my vision blurs. Gale? My ex-boyfriend? My ex-boyfriend I dated for three years, and only broke up with a few months ago?

Abruptly, I stand up and run into the kitchen, heading straight for the counter below the sink. I shift around the half-empty bottles until I find our emergency bottle. It's an unopened bottle of Irish Whiskey. Whiskey is the one alcohol Peeta and I have in common—it gets us both completely fucked up. Like make-embarrassingly-personal-speeches-at-weddings fucked up; it was our friend Rue's and Peeta had drunk a gallon of it before pouring his soul about the first time he felt up Delly Cartwright in the 9th grade. I grab two shot glasses out of the counter above the sink and run back to him.

I set the shot glasses on the floor and fill them to the brim. Peeta slinks off the couch, moving to the floor, resting his back against the couch and gratefully accepts the shot, tossing it back—his Adam's apple moving rapidly as he swallows. I drink mine too, and then hurriedly pour us another. And then another. And another.

"I never thought she'd cheat on me. I mean, I thought I satisfied her enough." He shakes his head, the alcohol setting in both of us. "Katniss, I'm a great lay. You don't even know. Many women have told me it. Hell, they've screamed it!" He tosses back his fifth shot. Drunk Peeta is always a revealing Peeta. He always leaks personal information he would never do sober.

I raise my eyebrows. "Many?"

"Well, I don't know about 'many.' Six. Is six many?" He drags the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the whiskey as he looks at me.

"I don't think that's many. I think it's got to be at _least_ double digits before you can say many."

He nods. "How about you?"

"Me what?"

"How many guys?"

"Oh. Three." I take my fifth shot as Peeta takes his sixth. He ripped his shirt and jacket off between shots three and four, and now rubs his left hand up and down his bare stomach, his skin flushed from the alcohol. I'm sure I look the same; my face always gets extremely red when I drink. He unbuttons his cords and removes them, pulling them over his one shoe. My eyebrows perk up again. "Peeta, how did you lose one of your shoes?" I giggle escapes me, and soon he's joining me.

"I ran…so fast…that my…shoe flew…off," he pants between laughs. He falls down on the floor, rolling around as his hairless chest jumps with each breath.

"That's fucking crazy!" I yell mid-laugh. "Who does that?"

"I don't know!"

We laugh for what feels like hours, and eventually I look at the clock: 3:30. Shit, I have work tomorrow. I move to get up off the floor, but Peeta pulls me back down. I glare at him.

"Kat, don't leave me alone!" he calls, chuckling slightly, but I see the truth behind his glazed, drunk eyes.

"I have work in a few hours! If I show up still drunk, they'll fire me. Nurses can't take care of people while they're drunk." I've been a nurse practitioner at Alternative Medicine clinic for a few months now, and I love it, even though that wasn't my original life plan. I wanted to sing for a long time—but that doesn't pay the rent. So I went back to school, tending bar on the side; but now I love my job, oddly enough. My sister Prim always wanted to work in the medical field—not me.

"Fine." He huffs out a large breath. "One more shot?" His blue eyes twinkle at me, and before I even realize that I've been nodding my head, Peeta hands me my shot glass.

"Cheers?" he asks.

"Cheers."

And I toss it back.

* * *

My alarm blares, waking me up from a deep sleep. I groan, and smash it with my fist as hard as I can, not even caring if I break my hand. Stupid alarm—mocking me with the way it blinks the time over and over again: 8:35, 8:35, 8:35. I roll out of my bed, throwing of my teal colored sheets, reluctantly starting the day. It's not until I'm standing in front of my closet that I realize I'm completely naked. I frown, looking down at my olive, bare skin. I don't remember taking off my clothes, or getting into bed even, but here I am. I shrug my shoulders, ignoring it, and quickly pull some new underwear and my uniform: black slacks and white button-up. When I'm dressed, I turn back around to begin to look for my bag, when I see him. Peeta.

He's lying on his stomach, his head facing the direction opposite of me. I stop in my tracks, my mind wiped blank of reasoning. My sheets are pulled so low on his body, revealing his nakedness. I never checked him out while we were swimming, but I can't help but check him out now: his ass is perfect. But I discard those thoughts immediately, shaking my head, and try to remember how the hell he got here. Then I freeze as I put the two pieces together.

I was naked.

He is naked.

Fuck.

I had sex with Peeta last night.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh my God. I had sex with Peeta. The realization startles me, and suddenly, the memory overwhelms my entire being.

* * *

_"Cheers."_

_I toss back my drink, and Peeta joins me, a smirk on his face as he swallows._

_"What are you smirking at?" I ask._

_He shakes his head. "I don't know. I have no reason to. I caught my girlfriend fucking your ex-boyfriend on the night I was going to propose. If that's not the universe telling me that I shouldn't marry her, I don't know what is!" He laughs, but it's strained. I see pain flash in his abnormally blue eyes._

_"She wasn't good enough for you Peeta," I say automatically, running my hand through my loose hair; his eyes follow the movement._

_"Then who is?" he asks, leaning back on the front of the sofa._

_"No one." It's the truth. _

_"Huh?"_

_"You're better than every other human being on this planet. You know that. No girl will ever be able to compete with your goodness."_

_He rolls his eyes at me, disbelief on his face. "So I'm forever alone?" I hear his voice break slightly as he tries to make a joke out of his fear. _

_I shake my head, dismissing him. "No. You'll find someone who loves you, more than Madge ever did. She's a bitch, obviously. But what I'm saying is that they will never be good enough for you. They'll only be good enough because you chose them."_

_Suddenly, before I can even breathe after my little speech, his lips are on mine. His left hand grips my neck, his fingers pulling at the roots of my dark hair, as he moves his lips hungrily; they feel so good—so soft and plump, and melding perfectly—and I return the kiss. Eagerly. My skin is suddenly on fire, and I'm hungry for more. More of him._

_Peeta moves on top of me, pressing his bare skin against me. My legs wrap around his hips and I pull him closer; I feel his growing hardness pressing against my center, and I'm barely able to stifle my moan. God, it feels so good._

_"Bed," I pant against his lips. "My bed."_

_He nods and pushes himself up off the floor, taking me with him. He carries me down the hall, my legs around his torso, his hands gripping my butt and thighs. I untangle my hands from his gorgeous hair and pull my lips off his just so I can rip my grey t-shirt off. His eyes bleed into mine as he moves one hand from my ass and adeptly removes my bra; he tears it down my arms and throws it at the wall before we dive back into our kissing. His mouth tastes of whiskey and honey as our tongues wrestle in harmony. _

_When we reach the door to my bedroom, Peeta raises the arm the just removed my bra with and shoves it open. He kicks away the dirty clothes that cover my floor, clearing his path, and climbs onto the bed, moving into the middle. We quickly discard my underwear and sweats, desperate for more contact; his touch feels so perfect—like home. It's like I've been sleeping, but as soon as his skin presses against mine, I'm awake. _

_I lay there open for him, naked, as he kneels between my thighs. His hands run up and down my body, causing my skin to break out in tingles and fire. "You're so beautiful, Katniss." His voice is so quiet, I barely hear it, but his eyes are locked onto mine and I read his chapped lips. His eyes are wide and truthful and I feel my heart swell. He thinks I'm beautiful. He shimmies out of his boxers, and spreads my legs apart, positioning himself at my entrance. He lets his arousal tease me, nudging at my drenched folds. I arch upwards, trying to force him into me, but he continues his teasing. His head rubs deliciously over my clit and my insides flutter, desperate for him. It's infuriating—and completely sexy._

_"Peeta, now!" I command, desire overwhelming me as I take in his naked form. He was absolutely not kidding—he is unbelievably well endowed. _

_He puts his weight on his elbows, his face only a few inches from mine, then slowly, he pushes himself into me. I feel a slight twinge of pain, as I'm overstuffed and underused, and I look up to see his face twisted in controlled pleasure. His perfect, white teeth are clenched, causing his strong jaw to bulge in the sexiest manner; I lift my hand to touch the rigid muscles. I've always loved his jaw. It's so sexy and strong. He pauses when he's completely buried inside me, letting me get acclaimed to his intrusion. _

_"Oh god, you're so tight, Kat. It feels amazing," he whimpers, leaning into my fingers, his eyes screwed shut and his breathing haggard. After a few seconds, he pulls out, and then pushes back in and begins to give it to me in a unhurried pace. I remove my fingers from his jaw and run my hands up and down his bare torso, outlining his well defined muscles. I've seen him shirtless almost every day since we moved in together two years ago, but there's a huge difference between seeing him as he gets ready for bed, and seeing him while his muscles ripple as fills me repeatedly. I can hear myself moaning embarrassingly loud, but I can't seem to stop. It feels too good._

_"Faster, Peeta, faster," I beg, my voice utterly desperate._

_I see him smile down at me as I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry as I look into his piercing blue eyes. The ones I've look at every day for years, the ones more familiar than my own. He picks up his pace, and leans down to bite the tip of my nipple—I gasp and feel myself clench around him in response. "I knew you'd like that," he mumbles against my breasts and he bites it again. "You like it rough, don't you?"_

_I nod my head furiously, agreeing with him and I feel him pick up is pace even more, pounding me frantically. He moves one hand to my lower back, and tilts my pelvis up slightly; when he pushes into me again, he rubs my sweet spot and I moan even louder, my back arching, my skin breaking out in a thin layer of sweat. He attacks my breasts again, nibbling and sucking and kissing until I feel myself reach the edge._

_"Come," he orders, moving his lips back to mine. He kisses me deeply, pinching my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and I do what he says, shouting his name and climaxing, pulsing around his thickness as it pumps into me, long and hard._

_"That felt so good. I don't think I've ever felt anything so good," he moans after my ripples fade—at least thirty seconds later. "Where do you want me to come?"_

_"Inside me, please," I pant. "We're covered." I want to feel him finish inside my so badly, it's almost frightening. Only him._

_He nods, kisses me again, and then plunges into me to the hilt, and comes, groaning my name as I feel him spasm, his liquid filling my core. I moan again; god that felt good._

_We pant in unison, our chests pressed together, for minutes. He looks so happy, his grin only a few centimeters from mine. After our breathing has settled, he leans down and kisses me again, his lips perfect with mine._

_"You mean everything to me, Katniss," he whispers when he pulls away. _

_I bury my head in his neck, kissing away the sweat on his skin until my eyelids begin to droop._

* * *

SON OF A BITCH! I can't believe we did that. And god, I can't believe that was the best sex of my life—absolutely. Hands down. With my best friend.

I immediately begin to panic. I can't lose him, and I know that if we start a relationship and it ends badly, I will. I agree with Peeta—he means everything to me. He's basically my only family since Prim lives across the world and I see her once a year.

Wait, why I am I freaking out? It was just sex, right? I mean, he's heartbroken, and he just needed a release, and I…was drunk? Maybe? Fuck, I don't know why I didn't push him away, except I wanted it. Fuck, I wanted him. I run my hands over my face and look back to his sleeping form. My eyes linger over the defined muscles of his broad shoulders and the way his blonde locks curl at the end. I feel my stomach flutter. I _want_ him—present tense. In more ways than one.

It's always been Peeta.

The thought pops into my head, startling me so much I almost physically jerk. I shake my head, trying to banish the emotions. Shit, I cannot have feelings for him. It could ruin everything. I look at the clock, and run out of my room, realizing my memory took up a lot time and I'm about to be late.

I sprint down the front steps of our small white house and out to my car, but when I turn the keys in the ignition, all I hear is silence. I try it again—nothing. Fuck, Peeta said that he was going to check up on it since he noticed something wrong with it the last time he drove it—but he hasn't yet. I throw open my door and run over to Peeta's truck. I jump in the driver's seat, adjust it for my height, and quickly pull out and into the road, speeding to work.

When I reach _Cornucopia Alternative Health_, I park in my usual spot and text Peeta the car situation as I run into the building.

"Cutting it close," the secretary Cinna calls when I run past him. He's always been nice to me, and probably the closest friend I have here, but today I don't have time to be nice. Or enough brain space for that. Peeta and being late are occupying everything. I run to my office and sit down at my desk with thirty seconds to spare. Then Finnick Odair tumbles in, holding a stack of charts.

"God, Katniss, it's about time you got here," he jokes, giving me his patented smirk. "I was worried there for a second." Finnick has been working here just along as I have, and though he's supposed to be my superior of some kind, he acts nothing like it; he's not threatening or very boss-like at all. Just a flirt, with gorgeous green eyes and perfectly tousled bronze hair, who loves what he does. He's mainly a physical therapist who works with people in the pool.

"Car trouble," I explain easily. And it's true, but not exactly the whole truth. But I can't exactly tell my co-worker that I was almost late because I am extremely hung-over and reliving the best sex of my life.

He nods. "Okay, whatever. Have fun with your patients today—you've got some good ones." He hands me my stack of patient files and exits the door, giving me a wink.

I relax in my chair, but my heart is humming in my ears. And my stomach. And my thighs—oh, wait, that's my cell. I pull out my phone from my pocket and see Peeta's name pop up: New Text. I open it, unbelievably nervous to read what it says. Will he talk about the sex? Will he tell me he wants to be with me? Will he say he's always loved me? I shake away the absurd thoughts and open his message.

_Don't worry about it. I'll fix your car today. And let's talk when you get home. :)_

Smiley face? What the fuck does that mean?

I shake my head and slip the phone back into my front pocket without responding; I slump into my leather chair and look around my office. The plethora of leafy, green plants seem to mock me today—Peeta picked them out. He said he wanted me to feel at home, like I'm back in the country house I grew up in, surrounded by trees. I feel like groaning internally or curling up into a ball on the soft green carpet. Fuck this job right now. I love it, but it's preventing me from wallowing; which is something I don't normally do, but I think it's appropriate considering the circumstances.

I only got this job because of my mother. She used to be an herbalist for our small town and I grew up learning about all the plants she used and how to find them while I was hunting. That's why I was hired—my knowledge of herbal remedies for common things like stress or back aches.

But all that doesn't matter right now. Because I had sex with my best friend. And I think I'm in love with him.

* * *

My day is extremely busy, thankfully, so I don't think about Peeta until I'm on my way home. I drive five miles under the speed limit the whole way, trying to put off the inevitable. But that never works, and soon enough I'm opening the front door and marching in.

"Hey, I made dinner. I hope you're hungry," Peeta calls from the kitchen as I shrug off my purse and hang it on the coat rack. I frown slightly at his tone: he sounds happy. He shouldn't be happy, he just got cheated on. And possibly fucked up his relationship with his best friend.

"Yeah, starved," I reply. "I'm gonna go change." I sprint into my room and scan my closet strategically. Do I go for the usual: sweats and a baggy t-shirt? Or do I go for something sexy and try to entice him into a replay of last night: short-shorts and a tank top sans bra? I reach into my closet and pull out one of my long-sleeved nightgowns that goes to my knees. It's frumpy, but can easily be peeled off, so Peeta could take me on the kitchen table. Again, I shake my head. Man, I need to pull my shit together.

When I'm dressed I walk out of my room, down the hall and into the kitchen. It's painted a soft orange, Peeta's favorite color, because he spends most of his time in here baking; it's practically his second room. Peeta turns around when hears me—his face lighting up. "Hey, how was work?" he asks, as he sticks something into the oven. From scanning the kitchen, I can tell it's a fresh loaf of bread—my mouth waters just thinking about it.

"Busy. But fine."

He nods his head, knowingly. Then he smirks. "Where did you sleep last night?" he asks, his voice laughing.

"Huh?" Uh, weirdest question ever.

"Well, I was in your bed when I woke this morning. And I know you're going to kill me, but I was naked. Before you say anything, I washed your sheets!" He grins and walks a little closer to me. "So did you sleep in my bed or crash on the couch or what?" His eyebrows are prodding, but he's completely serious. He doesn't remember. My heart falls to my stomach and I instantly feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't believe it.

I turn away from him, trying to fight back the tears. "The couch," I mumble. God, I'm crying?! What the hell—did I lose my fucking brain as soon as Peeta's dick was thrust inside me?

"Ah, well sorry for taking your bed. I don't remember much after we talked about how many people we've slept with. So now the cat is out of the bag, and I've slept with six women." Seven, actually, but you don't remember.

I nod, still turned away from him. "Yep. That's what you said." I have to force my voice not to break.

We eat dinner together at our small dining room table and Peeta chats to me about my car and his day and life in general. He's going to focus on his bakery dreams to try to get his mind off of Madge. Peeta's always wanted open a bakery, just like the one he grew up working in. He's been saving up his money for at least ten years from every job he's ever had. I give the appropriate responses, but it's all half hearted. All I can think about is last night. How could he not remember? It was amazing. Incredible. Mind-blowing. Best sex ever. And he doesn't even remember it. Talk about a blow to the ego.

I watch him talk, his large mouth in a goofy smile, and question why I didn't realize my feelings sooner. As much as I hate what I'm feeling, I know they aren't going to fade away; they've always been there, in the back of my mind. How could they not be? He's been with me for everything. When my father passed away a few years ago, he held me while I cried—for days. We ordered in all of our food and he just lied in bed with me. We only separated to go to the bathroom, answer the door when the delivery man arrived or to put a different movie into the DVD player.

Obviously, I'm a complete idiot. He always treated me better than Gale did. Whenever Gale and I argued over something stupid, Peeta was always there to calm me down and convince me that I we were both just being stubborn and I just get over my shit and forgive him. Of course, he said it more eloquently.

If Peeta notices my quietness, he doesn't say anything. He continues to chat effortlessly while we wash the dishes, giving me his heart-stopping smile more than once; my stomach is in constant knots. When we're finished, I give him the excuse of my hangover to turn in early.

"Okay, feel better," he says as me pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold onto him as long as humanly possible; his scent over whelms me, bringing up images of last night when I kissed away his sweat. As soon as his arms fall from me, I sprint down the hall to my room and jump into bed. I pop one of my prescription sleep disorder pills to make sleep easier, not wanting to have a nightmare tonight considering how little I slept last night because of Peeta, and almost instantly drift off.

* * *

"Katniss?"

The soft caress of Peeta's voice prods me awake. I rub my eyes and blink at the annoyingly bright numbers of my alarm clock: 3:43. What the fuck is he doing in here? I look up at him as he leans over me, sitting on the edge of my bed; there's a hint of sadness in his normally joyful sapphire eyes.

"Peeta, what the hell? It's almost four in the morning," I groan.

He looks away from my face, and runs a hand lazily through his hair.

"I remember."

* * *

**_WOW!_**** Amazing response from the first chapter! Thank you all so much! Sorry to leave you guys with a cliffhanger like that, but I love to. :D So what do you think is going to happen? I want to hear your predictions! **


	3. Chapter 3

I sit up instantly. "You—you remember?" I stutter, my breath suddenly absent from my lungs.

He looks back at me, tilting his head. "Katniss, why didn't you say anything?"

Anger rips through me. "What was I supposed to say?! Oh, Peeta, actually we fucked and then you forgot! Was it as good for you as it was for me? Come on, be serious." I cross my arms over my chest and roll my eyes.

"Don't do that, Kat. Don't just dismiss this; we need to talk about it."

I throw my arms out at him. "Fine! Talk!"

He gets off the bed, crosses my room swiftly, and crawls in on the other side; I watch him, transfixed, unable to fathom what he's going to do next. He turns on his side and snuggles into my pillows, so I lie back down and mirror his position.

"I'm so sorry I didn't remember," he whispers, his soft voice filled with anguish. He lifts his hand and rests it on my face, his thumb skimming my cheekbone back and forth; my stomach flutters at the action. "I don't ever want to make you feel cheap or used. I can't even begin to imagine what it was like to have _that_ happen and the other person doesn't even remember it."

I relax slightly. "What do you mean _that_?" I prod, biting my lower lip.

I see his face flush in the moonlight. "Sex, Kat. Amazing sex."

I flush too and find myself moving closer to him, my body acting on its own accord. "So it _was_ good for you?" I ask with a sarcastic smile, but nervous panic runs through my veins, desperate to know the answer.

He bites his lip too and nods. "Unbelievably good. And, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but I'm pretty sure you enjoyed it too."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? Why do you think that?"

His face gets even redder. "Were you even there? Because you were pretty enthusiastic. Kissing and moaning and fondling and commanding and clenching and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it," I cut him off. I'm getting turned on just thinking about it and the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful person he's ever laid his striking blue eyes on.

"So?"

"So what?"

He leans in closer, his eyes shining. "Was it good for you?" His hand moves from my face to the back of my head. "I want to hear you say the words."

"Peeta, I—" I pause, trying to think of what to say without blubbering all of my feeling out. I don't want him to know how I feel. What if he doesn't reciprocate? So I say something that will appease him more subtly. "I let you…come inside me. I've never let a guy do that before."

He pulls away slightly, his blue eyes filled with confusion, and something else I can't identify. Elation? Wonder? Love? "Not even Ga—?"

"Don't say his name," I cut him off again. "This is a happy place, Peety." I smile at him softly, trying to relieve the tension and he smiles back at me. "You know how desperately I don't want children, so I've always been extra careful. And I just never felt comfortable enough to allow him or anyone else. Until you." I stop, realizing how close I am to saying something I'll regret. I clear my throat before continuing. "So I guess you could say I enjoyed it."

"I told you," he smirks at me, but there's serious expression under it.

"So what do we do now?" Amazing sex aside, he's heartbroken over Madge, so it's not like he has genuine feelings for me. He was probably just desperate for comfort and it just so happened that I was the nearest warm body. What I need to do is tell him we should just be friends so he doesn't feel guilty when he makes that decision himself. I mean, I know I have feelings for him; deep, unrelenting feelings that go way past the great sex, but he doesn't. And I don't want him to feel bad about that. And Peeta would.

"Well—"

"Don't feel bad. I understand that you were just upset over Madge and you wanted a release. You wanted to forget about how she hurt you."

"Katniss—"

"So let's just let's just forget about it and go back to normal; just best friends who share everything. I mean, the sex was great, but it was probably just because of the alcohol, right?" I lie, my chest tight. I don't want this. I don't want to forget.

He nods, but he doesn't look relieved like I thought he would. He looks disappointed—and I'm confused as to why. "Okay. We'll just forget and go back to normal—sounds good."

I take a shaky breath. Shit. That was heartbreakingly easy.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" he asks randomly. I'm thrown. Why would he want to do that? But I nod my head anyways; I'm not going to forgo the opportunity to be pressed against him again. I turn around onto my side—my usual sleeping position—and I feel Peeta snuggle up behind me. Just like he did after my father died. "Are your nightmares back again?"

I freeze. Wait, how did he?—then I notice I left my pill bottle on the nightstand instead of tucking it back into the drawer.

"Just once or twice this last week," I mumble.

"Kat, you should have told me. You know I like to be there for you when you have them." I've had nightmares since my father's death. Painful, agonizingly violent dreams that verge on night terrors. I thrash around on the bed, sometimes screaming, as I dream about my father exploding in mines or my sister being burned alive or Peeta being ripped apart by dog-like mutations. I feel his arm wrap around my stomach and pull me closer to him until our bodies become one; the warmth of him seems to ignite a fire under my skin.

"I will next time."

His warm breath hits my bare neck as he exhales softly, trying to fall asleep and I break out in shivers; it smells minty like his toothpaste. "Please do."

I stay awake a little bit longer, trying to memorize the feeling of his skin against mine, but the comfort of us together pulls me under all too soon.

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, nightmare free, Peeta isn't beside me. Even though I knew he would be teaching a class today, it still hurts. And I feel like a pussy. Since when do I let feelings affect me so much? I shake my head, dismissing the overwhelming feeling of suckage before I crawl out of bed and towards my closet. I slip on my normal black pants and white shirt and weave my hair into its usual braid before leaving my room entirely.

As I step into the kitchen, my eyes immediately fly to the middle counter; there rests a plate with half a dozen cheese buns—my favorite thing Peeta bakes. They are so deliciously flaky and buttery and cheesy, that I practically sprint the three feet to them and instantly grab one, taking a massive bite. And then another. It's not until I've inhaled it in its entirety that I see a note lying next to the dish. My name is written on the front of a folded white piece of paper in Peeta's hurried scrawl. I snatch it from the wooden counter and open it as quickly as possible.

_Katniss,_

_These are some "I'm sorry" cheese buns. I woke up this morning next to you, and felt utterly wretched again for forgetting about our moment. It kills me to think about what you might have been going through. You're my best friend. I love you, Kitty._

_Always,_

_Peeta_

I feel an insurmountable rush of elation take over my body as I reread the letter multiple times. Just like I call him Peety, he calls me Kitty when we're sad or worried because of the other one. And _always_, well, that's a whole different story. One that makes my heart pound just thinking about it. But I shake my head, dismissing_ that_ memory and think about one that doesn't turn my stomach into knots: the day we met.

* * *

_When I walk into the classroom, I instantly regret taking Prim's suggestion. There are a billion older people, all of them at least thirty-five—and then there's me. I huff out an exasperated breath and snake my way through the cooking stations to find one in the back that's vacant. I set my bag down on the floor and plop myself onto a wooden stool. This is dumb. Why do I always fall for Prim's antics? Oh right, because I'm spineless when it comes to my baby sister. I glance around the room again and contemplate leaving. The eighty year old lady who probably teaches this class won't miss me. I grab my bag, ready to book it out of there, when suddenly the door is thrown open._

_"Is everyone ready to cook?" the man asks as he crosses the room, his soft voice ringing with authority and confidence. I stand there, stunned as I watch him move in front of his instructional station. His light blonde hair is elegantly styled, which I'm guessing he did to try to make him look older, but it doesn't work; there's no way in hell that dude is over twenty. He wears a sky blue button up, tucked into a pair of worn brown corduroys and red converse. When he finishes tying a cream colored apron around his waist, he smiles. Unexpectedly, warmth rushes through my entire body, lighting me up; my skin tingles and I try to look away—but I can't seem to. His eyes flit around the room, taking in everything, and then they land on me. He stares at me, his blue eyes glowing like moons for a long time before finally looking away._

_"My name is Peeta Mellark, and I'll be your instructor for this class. And I know what you're all thinking: 'what is this punk ass kid going to teach me?'" The room breaks out in quiet laughter at his self-deprecating humor, and his smile gets bigger. "But trust me; I actually know what I'm doing."_

_Peeta starts off showing us something easy—how to make chicken noodle soup. He chats effortlessly as he teaches us what to do, popping in a joke every once in a while to put us at ease. And when he's finished making the dish, he asks us to repeat what he did while he walks around and observes us._

_I thought what he was doing looked uncomplicated, but I soon find myself getting lost—and I feel like a fucking idiot. I chop the veggies and chicken fine enough, years of hunting helping with that, but the rest leaves me flabbergasted._

_"Do you need some help?" Peeta's kind voice is suddenly at my side. I look away from my cutting board and over to his face. He's maybe half a foot taller than me, but the way he holds himself doesn't reflect it. He stands perfectly straight, his stocky build making him look like he could pick me up and hurl me across the room if he wanted. His handsome looks don't really scream "I teach people how to cook for a living."_

_I jut my chin out and turn my face back to the ingredients sprawled across my station. "No. I'm fine," I state firmly. I'm not gonna accept help on something so easy, it's ridiculous. I just need to focus and try to remember._

_"I can tell you aren't used to fumbling around," he whispers, taking a step closer to me. "You look a little out of place, like a deer in headlights."_

_I scoff. "Thanks for the metaphorical comparison. But seriously, guy, I can handle it."_

_"It's Peeta. And I'm sorry if I offended you, I honestly didn't mean to. But you're here to learn, and there's nothing wrong with accepting a little help sometimes."_

_I whip my head around to him, my braid almost smacking me in the face. But before I scream at this guy for being a self-righteous prick, I see the look in his eyes; there's a flame behind them, bleeding truth, and I pause. Maybe I should just let him help me. Prim doesn't want me to starve, and I know that living off spaghettios is going to get disgusting after a few weeks._

_I sigh, giving up. "Fine. Teach me, oh wise one."_

_He lets out a hearty chuckle, shaking his head, and begins to reiterate to me the things I've forgotten. The instructions fall so naturally from his lips, like he's done it a million times before, and I do what he says. After twenty minutes, I have delicious smelling concoction boiling on the stove._

_I turn to Peeta again, unable to hide a smile. "Thanks."_

_"You're welcome…" he trails off, waving his hand at me._

_"Katniss," I say. "My name is Katniss."_

* * *

I set the note back on the table and grab another cheese bun before heading out the door. I always knew there was an attraction with Peeta—I mean, I'm not blind; the man undeniably beautiful. I felt the spark the day we met, but I didn't make anything of it. I figured it was because he was nice and attractive. But he never made a move to date me, and I never made a move to date him. We just didn't. Now that I think about it, I don't know why. Is there something wrong with me? Peeta has always been pretty clear when it comes to how he's feeling, so I think he would have told me if he felt anything more than friendship for me. Right?

I shake my head. I need to stop being such a fucking sap. Peeta will always be my friend. So I just need to forget about the dread that forms in the pit of my stomach when I think of that never changing.

* * *

When I come home from work, I'm relieved, excited, and many other emotions to find Peeta waiting for me with open arms. He pulls me into his body and I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck; I fit so perfect in there. It's like it was made for me.

"How was work today?" he asks, his cheek resting on the top of my head. We aren't normally so touchy-feely—we maybe share a brief hug before we go to bed most nights—but I don't want to let go now. And it seems like he doesn't either.

"It was fine. Finnick pretended to drown in the pool and scared the shit out me, but besides that, it was the usual. I saw people, I gave them some plants, and they left."

He chuckles softly. "I really liked that Finnick guy when I met him. He's kind of hilarious." I introduced them once when Peeta and I happened to go to a bar that Finnick frequents.

I agree with Peeta—Finn's a pretty amusing guy. And he's easy on the eyes. Really easy. "How about you, hmm? How was your class?"

I feel him shrug his shoulders. "Well, I didn't meet another best friend, but it went fine. I got to use the fire extinguisher."

"Ooo! You love doing that!"

He laughs again and finally releases me. "I ordered your favorite tonight—Chinese. And I have your favorite movie in the DVD player. Annnnnnnnnnd," he reaches into his back pocket and then whips his hand back in front of my face. "I got you this." Grasped between his large fingers, is a small golden pin with a little bird on it. "It's a mockingjay—it reminded me of your voice."

Mockingjays are these mutated birds; a mockingbird copulated with some weird other bird and they were born. And they are known for their song. They sing beautifully, their light tweets a soft soprano—but what's cool about them is that they can also imitate. If you are lucky enough to find a Mockingjay in its natural habitat, and you whistle a tune for it, it can sing it back to you. It's awe-inspiring to watch. I've only seen a handful in my lifetime, all of them when I lived in the country, but I remember each moment vividly.

"I love it," I whisper. Peeta immediately pins it to my white shirt. "But what's with all the special treatment?"

He blushes, and looks away from me with a sheepish grin on his face. "More apology gifts."

I shake my head at him. Peeta always feels responsible when things happen to the people around him. He tries to fix everything—tries to prevent anyone from hurting. And because this time it was actually his fault, I know he's going to beat himself up a lot longer than he should.

I point to the pin on my shirt. "Well this is the last one. You're done apologizing to me, especially when it's not even necessary. You know how I hate apologies." I lift my left eyebrow up at him.

His sheepish grin turns into a smirk. "Okay, fine. I'll stop. After tonight, I'll stop."

I roll my eyes. Shit. What else does he have in store?

* * *

It turns out Peeta has a lot more in store. While I eat sweet and sour chicken out of the box with chopsticks, he massages my feet—the movie playing in the background. Peeta's hands are just…swoon-worthy. It must be the baker thing. His thumbs knead my heels gently and I have to hold back the moan that threatens to escape my throat; and force the memory of the way he used those hands on my body the other night out of my head. He pauses only so I can feed him a bite of the chicken, then goes back to rubbing my feet as he chews happily.

While we're eating, Peeta's phone buzzes repeatedly as it sits on the table next to the couch, but he ignores it.

"Are you gonna answer that?" I ask when it vibrates for the tenth time.

He shakes his head. "No. It's Madge."

"She's been calling you?" I ask hesitantly.

His hands get a little rougher with my feet. "Yeah. She won't stop. But I've said everything there is to be said. I can't be with her; you know how I feel about cheating."

Peeta has been cheated on by every girl he's dated seriously. And it pisses me off. He has this thing for nice girls—so innocent and doting—but then a few months into the relationship, they are suddenly whores who decide to bang other guys. And it's not like they are quality guys either; compared to Peeta, no guy is a quality guy.

"She'll take the hint eventually," I say, chewing another bite. But I secretly hope she doesn't. I'd love for her to come over here, desperate to get him back, just so I can punch her in the face.

"Whatever. I don't even understand why she wants to talk to me, or get back together. She obviously cheated on me because she wasn't satisfied with me."

I dig into my take-out box, searching for a piece of chicken as I continue talking. "She's a bitch, Peeta. Plain and simple. And I really don't know how she couldn't be satisfied by you." We both freeze, his hands stilling, as we realize what I said. "With—I meant with," I quickly correct, blushing profusely.

I look away from my food, worried about what he'll say, but he just smirks at me knowingly. "Thanks." And then continues rubbing my feet.

When the massage is over, he leaves the room briefly and returns with a drawing he sketched earlier. Peeta's an immensely talented artist, and he's never actually spent time to develop it; it just comes naturally to him and he does it for fun. When I first met him, we was considering going to art school, but decided culinary was better for him. I was always jealous that he had two passions he had to choose from while I flopped around in school until I landed on alternative medicine. The drawing, in a beautiful copper frame, is of two flowers: a primrose and a katniss root. Me and my sister. The two flowers are wrapped around each other in what looks like an embrace, like he's given them human attributes. The colors bleed into one another, bringing them to life. God, it's beautiful; and so heartfelt.

And then finally, promising me it's the last gift, he brings out a guitar. My heart stops immediately. Because it's not just any guitar; it's my father's.

"Peeta," I breathe, air leaving my entire body, the bun I was eating slipping out of my grasp and falling onto the burgundy carpet. "How did you…?"

He sets the instrument on the ottoman in front of me and joins me on the couch. I stare at the shiny black wood, the tan frets, the golden strings and the red and orange patterned strap, completely silent and aghast. "It's not his, you know that, but it's the exact same kind. I've been researching it for a while now—from the picture you have on your nightstand—and I finally found it." I have a picture of my father teaching me the guitar when I'm about six years old as we sat on our dilapidated front porch. "It was supposed to be for your birthday next month, but I want to give it to you now."

"Peeta…" I trail off. I've never been good with words, and I can't even begin to express how much this means to me. Every day without my father, the pain doesn't cease. Even though it's been years, I still sometimes forget that he's gone, because it sounds like the stupidest thing in the world; he was my father, he was supposed to be with me forever. And I've always wanted to have a guitar just like his—but the actual instrument was destroyed along with his body. He had it with him when he was in the accident that took his life—on his way home from a little dive bar a few miles away from the home I grew up in, where he played on the weekends for fun.

I can't believe Peeta did this for me. I look away from the beautiful instrument and back to him. His eyes are wide, the blue irises shining and fixed on me; he looks hopeful, but a little wary—like he knows I'm going to fight him on this. And I am.

"You shouldn't have done this for me," I whisper.

"Yes, I should have."

"I'm going to repay you."

"No, you're not."

"It's too much money."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not. I love you, Kitty. And in all honestly, I would spend ten times the money on something if it made you happy. I would do anything for you."

I fight the urge to spew out my feelings for him; how he means everything to me, and how I'm so unquestionably wrapped up in him. I don't even deserve him as a friend, let alone anything more. "I love you, too."

And I don't think I've ever said anything more true in my entire life.


	4. Chapter 4

When I arrive at work a week after Peeta gave me the beautiful guitar I can't seem to stop playing, I'm almost twenty minutes early. I shrug my shoulders at the weird happenstance, I'm never early, and decide to grab a drink from _Seam Café_ on the first floor before heading to my office on the second. I scan the menu items as I wait in line; unfortunately they don't have delicious pastries like Peeta makes, but the coffee is pretty good. When I reach the front, I feel a smile tug at my lips at who I find.

"Katniss, baby, it's been awhile," Cato coos as he stands behind the counter, his dirty blonde hair coiffed sexily.

"Yes it has," I simply reply. Cato and I had a thing right after I broke up with Gale. He always flirted with me, and when I came to work after the screaming match that ended mine and Gale's relationship, Cato just so happened to be working. So we made out in the café's storage closet. Then he came over later that night. And we did more than just make out. Peeta hated him though. He said he didn't understand why I needed to sleep with someone so soon after my breakup with Gale. Well, I bet he understands now. "Can I get a hot chocolate?"

He nods and clicks a few buttons on the cash register as I hand him some cash; the fox-faced girl next to him begins to make my drink. He sets his elbows on the counter and leans towards me until his face is only a few inches from mine. "Have any plans later?"

I pause. Cato and I _were_ good together. He was pretty fantastic in bed—very dominate, but sweet too. He wanted to be kissing me at all times and knew just the right things to make damn sure I was enjoying myself; he was considerate. But then I think about Peeta. His memory may be too fresh in my mind to wipe it away. I want to savor the way his hands lingered on my thighs and the way his lips grazed my collarbone. But Peeta doesn't want to be with me. Maybe it would be a good idea to try to forget him as soon as possible, as much as I don't want to; try to move on rather than focus on what will never be.

"I thought you were seeing that Glimmer chick?" I ask, moving to the "pick-up" counter; Cato follows me. Glimmer is this annoyingly slutty girl that works at the café too. But with her large boobs she pushes up until they rest under her chin and her pasted on make-up and ridiculously high heels, you'd think she was a hooker.

"Nah, she's crazy; we're not together. Not for a lack of trying though—she's attempted to mount me about a hundred times." He reaches across the marble counter and touches the end of my braid. "But I like my women natural."

I shrug my shoulders, ignoring his comment. Maybe one night couldn't hurt. Since Peeta, I've been in a constant state of horniness. It's fucking terrible. And though I've been imagining it would be with Peeta, maybe I just need a release from Cato.

"Well, I might be free tonight," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He grins. "Awesome. Text me later if you're down, okay?"

I nod and he hands me my hot chocolate. I give him a small wave before I leave him behind and head to _Cornucopia_.

Finnick is waiting in my office when I open the door, leaning against my desk. I glance at the clock in the corner, worried I'm late again, but see that it's still five minutes before my shift is supposed to start.

"Hey Finnick, what's up?" I ask as I hang my bag on the hook next to the door. He doesn't normally do this. In fact, I've never walked into my office to find him waiting for me like he's a hunter and I'm the prey.

"Do you have any plans tonight?" he asks, running a hand through his bronze locks.

"Yeah, I think I do—why? What's up?" I really don't want to work tonight. Once a month one of us stays late to do a quick inventory of the herbs and physical therapy equipment—and it's about that time again. But I did it last month, and I really don't want to do it again. It's so damn boring.

"Uh, nothing really; I was gonna ask you something but it doesn't matter. I can do it later." He gives me his sexy smirk, then exits my room, his usual swagger catching my eye.

Huh. That was weird.

* * *

"Got any plans tonight? It is Friday after all," Peeta asks when I get home. Jeez. What is with everyone asking me that today? He's lounging on the couch, sketchbook in hand, with soft acoustic music on in the background. He looks over to me as I walk past him to head to my room to change.

"Maybe," I call over my shoulder. Once I'm in my room, I rip off my pants, and go to remove my top when I remember the shitty zipper of my shirt. It's one of my favorites—given to me by my father the day I graduated high school; he said the green ruffled fabric in front brought out the green flecks in my grey eyes. However, the five years since it was given to me haven't treated it well. The zipper is basically broken, and only moves when it feels like it. Fuck. I try to pull it off my head, but the silky material hugs my ribcage too tightly, and it won't budge past my shoulders. I let out an angry sigh. Dammit.

I throw open my door and head back to the living room to Peeta without a second thought. When he sees me, his eyes instantly widen and flit down to my legs. Crap! I forgot I removed my pants. I cross my legs, suddenly overwhelming self-conscious, though I know it's ridiculous. He saw me completely naked not long ago.

"Um, can you, uh, help me unzip my shirt?" I stutter, suddenly realizing what a terrible idea this is.

He jumps up off the couch, his sketchbook tumbling to the floor. Licking his lips, he tucks the pencil he was drawing with behind his ear and walks towards me; I turn away from him, unable to look into his open, beautiful eyes—afraid of what I'll find there.

"So what did you mean by 'maybe?'" he asks as I feel his hands gently touch my back. He tugs at the zipper and of course, it immediately moves for him. I bet it's his hands—zippers probably love baker's hands.

"Oh, um, I might be hanging out with Cato," I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

Peeta stops his ministrations, the zipper only half way down my back. "Cato? Seriously, Kat?" his voice is harsh and ragged—like he's been running at full speed and has just stopped. His rips the zipper the rest of the way down violently, and it falls away from my back. I immediately turn back around—I don't like his tone.

"What, Peeta?" I raise my eyebrow up, challenging him.

"He's not good enough for you. He just wants to use you for sex, and you deserve more than that," he whispers, his voice angry and stern. His blue eyes flame, the silver flecks around his pupils becoming more prominent.

"Well maybe I don't want more than sex," I say, my voice rising. I mean, that's not exactly true, but who is he to tell me what I want?

"That's bullshit and we both know it." He lifts his big, smooth hands and places them on my neck before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against mine. He's done this a million times before, but I suddenly realize the intimacy of it. If he leaned in just one more inch, his lips would touch mine, and it would be nirvana. He takes a deep breath. "I just want you to have everything you desire in love and life," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. _I want you!_ I want to yell at him—but I can't. Then he opens his eyes again, staring into mine—blue vs. grey. "And I _know_ Cato isn't it."

I instantly pull away from him; his hands drop awkwardly to his sides. "Well I'm sorry if I'm disappointing you, but Cato is…uncomplicated."

"Just don't let him use you."

"If anything, we're using each other," I point out.

He stiffens. His eyes change from concerned to furious in a matter of seconds. "And that's supposed to make it better?!" he yells, startling me. Peeta isn't one to yell. I can't remember the last time he actually yelled at me—or anyone. He didn't even shout when I told him I didn't think he should propose to Madge; he just got eerily quiet. He's not like me; I get pissed off and scream at everyone. And I'm about to do it again.

"Stop judging me, Peeta! Just because you're_ soooooooo _perfect, doesn't give you the right to look down at me!" I shout back at him.

"I would never look down on you! I just don't want some douchebag to fuck you and then leave you like some piece of trash—because you aren't! You are so unbelievably amazing, and Cato doesn't see that like I do!" There's a vein bulging in his neck, and his fists are clenched at his side.

"I'm not attached to Cato, so it wouldn't be like that," I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.

Then he points his finger at me, his eyes flaming. "You better not let him come inside you." His voice is cold, and full of uncontrolled contempt and jealousy that I've never heard from him before.

I feel like I just got slapped in the face. My mouth drops open, and Peeta falters; a shocked expression forming on his face as he realizes what he just said. He opens his mouth to say something but I let my body act for me; I reel back and push him as hard as I can. He stumbles, tripping over the ottoman in front of the couch, and falls on his ass. I turn around and stomp out of the room, back to mine, slamming the door behind me so hard it shakes for a long time.

I throw off my shirt and crawl into my bed, pulling the covers over me. And then finally, since everything happened with Peeta, and the first time in a long time, I let myself cry.

* * *

_As soon as Prim says the words, I fall to my knees, the air ripped from my lungs. The phone slips from my grasp as violent sobs rack my chest and my brain fills with fog. I curl up on the ground and my ears plug with sea noises. I wish I was in the forest. I wish I had my bow. I wish my dad was here. But he's not. And I'm never going to see him again. My dad is dead._

_I hear footsteps around me but I don't move. I can't move. Any desire to move has left me and it's never coming back. I think I hear my name being called but the sea noise in my ear is trying to calm me, and I want it to do its job. I feel fingers wrap around my biceps and pull me up. But I don't want to. I want to stay here. The carpet feels good on my cheek. Like a lamb. My dad is dead._

_Suddenly, beautiful blue eyes fill my vision. It's Peeta. He's so handsome. Like a movie star. My dad is dead._

_"Kitty, what the hell is going on? Baby, tell me?" his voice is garbled, like he's underwater. Am I underwater? I wish I was underwater. Swimming around with my dad and skipping rocks. But I'm here. And he's gone. My dad is dead._

_There's a loud screeching noise. I don't know where it's coming from. Peeta looks scared. I don't like it when beautiful Peeta is scared. Something so beautiful shouldn't be scared. He should be happy. I think the noise is coming from me because my throat is starting to hurt. My dad is dead._

_I feel warmth enveloping my frozen body. He's putting me in bed, and crawling in with me. I grab his white shirt in my hands and hold him to me, burying my face into his shoulder. I think he's saying something to me. But the sea is drowning him out. My dad is dead._

_I don't want to cry. I hate crying. But I hurt. Everything hurts. My dad is dead. _

_I sink my teeth into Peeta's shoulder, trying to stop the noises spewing out of me, but I can't. They won't stop. My face is bleeding tears. My nose is bleeding snot. My mouth is bleeding salvia. My heart is bleeding. My dad is dead._

_Peeta's voice is getting louder in my ear. I try to listen through the ocean. "…love with you. Tell me." I only catch the end of his sentence. He sounds so unbelievably worried. I pull away from his neck and look at him. He wipes my bangs away from my face and tucks them behind my ear before leaning forward and kissing the corner of my mouth. "What happened?" _

_"My dad," I whimper, and then another sob escapes my throat and I choke. Tears instantly well behind his eyes and he presses his forehead against mine. _

_"God, fuck, Kitty, no," he mumbles as one of his tears falls onto the bridge of my nose. _

_We stay like this, hugging and whispering and crying until our tears cease. But I feel empty now. I wish I still had more tears in me—then at least I'd know I was alive. _

_"How do you do it, Peety? How do you live without them?" I whisper, my voice almost gone._

_He shakes his head. "I don't know. I just try to breathe and act like the man I think they'd want me to be." He kisses my forehead. "It's hard."_

_I turn around and snuggle into his arms; he places his chin on my shoulder and squeezes me again. _

_My dad is dead. _

_But Peeta is still here._

_I guess that's something._

* * *

It's hours later when the tears finally dry, but I don't move from my bed. I still can't believe that Peeta would say that to me. I know him, better than anyone else, and just _know_ he understood how private and insecure I was about that. If I didn't let my boyfriend of three years have sex with me without a condom, why the hell would I let Cato? Peeta said those things out of spite, and in a moment of anger, he threw something incredibly personal in my face; and that's what kills me the most.

When the colors outside change from light to dark, and the chilly air begins to seep through my open window, I hear my bedroom door creak open. I feel the mattress dip and the covers shift slightly as he gets into bed with me. His big hand slides across my bare stomach and he moves closer until he's spooning with me. He takes shaky breath, the hot air skimming across my exposed neck.

"You will never understand how completely, entirely, magnificently sorry I am, Kitty," Peeta whispers. His voice is trembling, like he's on the verge of crying, and I unintentionally feel my stomach drop. I hate hearing him sad.

"I can't believe how terribly I fucked up. You mean everything to me, you're my whole family, and I said that—" he breaks off, his voice cracking, and I feel another tear slip down my nose. Peeta grew up without a family. He was raised by his uncle Chaff after he lost his parents and two brothers in a freak house fire when he was only three. His uncle wasn't great at rearing him, an uncontrollable alcoholic, and Peeta's always felt isolated—alone in life. Until he met me. I became his family, just like he became that for me. We found each other in random circumstances, when we weren't looking for anything permanent. But we did. He's a permanent part of me.

"Please tell me you can forgive me; maybe not now, but eventually. If you aren't in my life, I don't know what I would do." He sniffs. "Always, remember? We said that two years ago, and I still believe it to this day. I know what I said to you was inexcusable. Not only was that an insecurity of yours, but I acted like I had a claim on you in your intimate life. What kind of prick does that? Definitely not a best friend. But I swear I will never do anything like it again. Please just forgive me."

I turn around, unable to hear him speak like that anymore, and bury my face in the crook of his neck. Like Peeta said, I can't imagine my life without him. I'm not one to keep grudges—especially against Peeta—even if he hurt me. I'm a bitter, selfish, moody bitch and he likes me in spite of that. I'm not gonna let one mistake ruin what we've built. God knows I've screamed at him more than once, and I'm positive I'll do it again—probably soon. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me to him and kisses my shoulder.

"Why did you say it, Peeta?" I find myself asking, breathing in his scent; he smells like manly cinnamon.

"I honestly don't know." His hand makes soothing circles on my back and I pull away from his neck so I can look into his eyes. "It just came out of my mouth; I have no idea where it came from." He shakes his head, astonishment and shame overwhelming his face.

I open my mouth, ready to tell him I can forgive him, but suddenly, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. I feel the hunger I did when he first kissed me ignite my body, but I know this kiss isn't like the other one. It's not heated or sexual. It's a plea; an apology. His hand cups my jaw and he removes his soft lips from mine momentarily. "Forgive me, Kitty," he whispers, then kisses me again.

I know that he's my best friend and he always will be. I know that he's hurting and he wants comfort. I know that he's sorry. I know that I will forgive him for anything. And I know that he doesn't love me like I love him. But most of all, I_ know_ that this kiss is more than just a kiss shared between two friends.

* * *

**Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a hard one to write—pretty intense. Jealous Peeta reared his UGLY head. But we all say stuff we never intended to when we fight with someone. Haha! I also hope you liked the flashback. For anyone that has experienced loss, it can be like that. All these weird things pop into your head and you feel unbelievably hopeless, and kind of like a robot; or in a dreamlike state. I hope I was able to do it justice.**


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm a big girl, Peeta. You don't have to take care of me," I say to him, trying my hardest not to grit my teeth.

"Yes, I do," he whispers, his hand running along my bare arm under the covers. I suddenly realize how close to naked we both are, now that the drama and sadness and anger have faded for the most part; we're both only in our underwear. "Because you don't think you need help. And sometimes you do. Remember what I said to you the first time we met?"

I nod. "'There's nothing wrong with accepting a little help sometimes,'" I repeat his words verbatim.

"Exactly." He takes a deep breath and removes his hand from my arm to run through his disheveled hair. "I really fucking hate that guy, Kitty. He just irks me. So I'm trying to protect you here. But if you want to meet up with Cato again, I can't stop you. And I know you don't like being helped, but I can't stop doing it. I want to take care of you as much as you will let me, but I know I can't make decisions for you—you'd never allow it."

I smile. He knows me so well. "Thanks, Peety." Then a yawn escapes my mouth before I can stifle it. I guess crying really wears you out.

"Let's go to sleep, okay?" he says; I nod in response. He presses a kiss to my forehead, then I turn around and snuggle my face into my pillow as his arms wind around my bare stomach.

* * *

I grew up in a warm household. I had a father that was unbelievably in love with my mother, and a mother who reciprocated entirely; they thought the other one hung the moon. I was surrounded in their love. And they were good parents. My father came to every one of my archery meets and taught me to hunt and forage and play guitar. We weren't well off—in fact we struggled to pay the bills every month, for my father was a just a coal miner—but we could always find food in the forest.

So when I left for college, it was the first time I was on my own. And I wasn't scared or anything—I'm not one that fears a lot—but it was all foreign to me. I couldn't hunt, I barely had any money, and detested everyone I met. They all seemed so fake; like they made careers out of being douchebags. That was until my cooking class with Peeta. When Prim suggested it, I'm pretty sure I laughed for a half an hour—it just seemed so absurd! I could kill a deer and cook it in the fire. That was the extent of my cooking skills. But I couldn't make a fucking soufflé or some shit to save my life. But because I love her, I took her advice and went.

And who knew I would find everything I needed in that stupid class. I found a home, a new life, a best friend and a love—all wrapped up in one 5'11" blonde boy who loves to bake and double knots his shoe laces like he's still six years old.

But as I watch Peeta sleep next to me, his strong chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes, I worship my sister for making that seemingly stupid suggestion.

Luckily, he's on his side facing me, so I can admire him secretly. His blonde bangs drape over his forehead, and his delicate eyelashes cause a tiny shadow to cross over his cheekbones. His soft, pink lips are open a little bit, and I feel a tug in my stomach to move closer and mold mine to them; just like he did last night.

I'm not sure what the reason was behind him kissing me, but I enjoyed it. Even though that was our worst fight ever, we've never in the past done something like that after we've reconciled. It honestly came out of nowhere. Not that I'm complaining but I just want to know _why_ he did it. Does he feel something for me? No, that's ridiculous. I know that Peeta is shy when it comes to talking about women and all things sexual, but after five years, if he wanted to be with me he would have told me. Right?

Peeta stirs, his face snuggling further into the pillow, and I close my eyes, feigning sleep as to not be caught staring.

"Katniss?" he whispers after a few seconds.

I blink my eyes open, pretending to wake up, and find him giving me a sleepy smile. I return it before I've even made a conscious decision to do so.

"Morning," I yawn at him. "What time is it?"

He glances at the clock behind him then turns his head back around. "9:37."

"Jesus, Peeta, why can't you sleep in more? It's Saturday."

He chuckles quietly. "I'm sorry. But you know how I am—baker blood and all. I wake up early whether I want to or not, no matter how little sleep I get the night before. The last time I slept in past ten was the night we—"

He stops himself, immediately turning red. The desire to poke fun at him wells inside me, but then I find myself remembering it too, and start to blush as well; the way his heavy breathing echoed in my ear, and the way his thrusts were hard and punishing but his expression was anything but. The way his fingertips skimmed my jaw as his mouth found my pebbled nipple and nibbled on the tip softly, then amplified the pressure, causing my moans to increase in volume. And the way he grinned against my skin when he realized that he knew what I liked.

I shake my head. No. I can't keep on reliving it. It's going to kill me.

"Um, anyway, are you sure we're okay? Because I know you don't want any more apologies, but I have a million ideas for groveling."

I smile softly. "As long as you make more cheese buns, we're even." Then, before I can stop myself, I reach across the minimal space between us and brush his hair away from his face. The delicately thin strands sneak between my fingers, creating an intimate friction that makes my stomach flip.

I look to his face, afraid I've crossed a boundary. But his eyes are closed, his eyelids fluttering lightly.

I guess he doesn't mind.

* * *

"Hey, you never texted me last night," Cato whispers seductively through the phone.

I hold my cell between my ear and shoulder as I pull on a pair of sweats. After what happened with Peeta yesterday, I just want a lazy day inside.

"Yeah, I got held up," I lie, snapping my waistband into place. "Work's been stressful."

"I understand entirely. However, I'm an excellent stress reliever, baby. Don't you remember?" his voice gets even lower, essentially turning into a growl.

Oh boy, do I. The memory of his long fingers curling inside of me, rubbing me right where I needed, is something I've often thought about these past three months since we had our one night stand.

"I've been dying to taste you again." Oh, Jesus. Don't even get me started on the things this man can do with his tongue. "I'm free tonight, Katniss. Just say the word."

"Yes," I breathe. The word slips out of my mouth before I can stop it as desire racks my body.

I can almost hear him grinning through the phone. "I'll come over later."

"No!" I shout. Fuck. After my argument with Peeta, there's no way I can sleep with Cato when he's right across the hall. "Um, how about we do it at your place?"

"Okay, sure." He spouts out his address and gives me simple directions to his apartment. "See you at ten tonight?"

"Yeah, see you then." I quickly hang up the phone and throw it on my bed. That was probably a mistake.

I find Peeta in the kitchen, kneading a large slab of dough that I assume is for cheese buns on the kitchen island; the muscles in his forearms jumping and his biceps flexing. There's a streak of flour underneath his left eye, making him look all adorable and homemaker-esque.

"Hey, were you talking to yourself?" he teases as he looks up and sees me entering the room.

"I was on the phone," I say nonchalantly, hoping he doesn't see the panic I'm sure is glowing in my eyes right now.

He nods and twists around to turn on the oven. "With whom?"

"Cato," I whisper, hoping he doesn't hear it. But I watch as the muscles in his back go rigid and I know he did. I'm glad I can't see his face—afraid of what I'd find there. Hate? Disgust? Disappointment? Fury?

Peeta is silent as his body begins to move again. Peeta he is a guy who knows how to talk. In fact, he's beautiful when it comes to words. But when he is silent—well—it's even more stunning. You just know whatever he's not saying is chewing at him, and he's using everything he has to keep quiet. When he finally turns back around, his face is blank—no emotion in sight. I think that's even worse.

Finally, he speaks. "How is he?" he practically sneers.

I gulp loudly. "Fine. I'm, uh, going over there later."

He nods his head, his lips pursed. "Well I hope you have a good time. And you know you can call me if you need me."

"I know," I exhale. That actually wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I turn to exit the room, but he says one last thing that makes me stop.

"You don't need another Gale in your life."

Gale? What is he talking about? I mean, I know they were never good friends or anything, but they did hang out sometimes and most of that time the two of them were pleasant to each other. Gale never did anything to him, so why is Peeta putting him in the same category as Cato—a guy he hates?

I march toward him, anger welling up inside me. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You liked Gale."

He scoffs. "I liked Gale as a strange, hard-ass that became hilarious when he got drunk. But I didn't like him as your boyfriend."

This is news to me. "Why?"

Peeta lets out a sad sigh. He wipes his hands on his apron and then places them on his neck; his pointer fingers begin to move in soft circles under my ears; his blue eyes stare into mine. "He was a bad guy to you, Katniss. You fought all the time, he never slept over an entire night, sometimes he'd ignore you for days, he was the cheapest guy that ever existed, and he forgot your birthday—all three years you were together."

I pause. That is true. He did forget my birthday, but I'm not huge on birthdays anyway—Peeta is. He always buys me a billion gifts, makes me an extravagant dinner with all of my favorite foods, and then we go out and do something together. Biking, skiing—we even went to an amusement park one time.

"You both had too much fire and anger," he continues. "And Cato isn't exactly the most stable guy either. You should be with someone who levels you out; a guy who can mellow the fire within you." His hands drop away from me and he land on the kitchen island counter.

I raise my eyebrow at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "Have anyone in mind?" As the sentence slips out of my mouth, I automatically think of him. Peeta's always been a calm presence when I need him. I mean, hell yeah, he can get pissed off, and not just like last night. I once saw him shatter a vase late one night after I came home crying because a particularly bad fight with Gale when he thought I couldn't see him. I'm not sure exactly why he did it, and he cleaned it up right away, but I saw the fury flash in his blue eyes as he hurled the blue glass at the cream colored wall of our living room.

Peeta's eyes dart away from me. "I, uh, no. No, not really." His hands grip the side of the counter, his knuckles turning white. "But just—just try to listen to me, okay?"

Now it's mine turn to scoff. "I told you last night—I'm not going to marry the guy. He's just a scratching post."

Peeta seems to shutter. "Okay, yeah. I understand now. Thanks for the image."

Then he goes back to his dough, pounding it a little bit harder than he was before, angry, uncomfortable silence filling the air that surround us.

* * *

It turns out Cato lives only a mile or so away from Peeta and me. It's a large, light blue duplex, and he swings open the door immediately after my fist hits its red wood.

"Hey, beautiful," he says before leaning forward to give me a small kiss on my cheek. When he pulls back, I see that he's dressed in a pair of deep blue jeans and a black t-shirt that hugs his large muscles.

"Hi," I whisper. He waves me in, and I take the steps into his place. It's very manly. The carpet is a muddy brown and the walls are deep green. There's sporadic, mismatching furniture around the living room, all pointed a large entertainment center. Behind the living room is a small kitchen with an island and black and white checkered linoleum. I nod my head; I like it. "Nice place. Do you have any roommates?"

"Yeah, my buddy Marvel." He takes a few steps closer to me, his eyes darkening. "But he's not here."

I nod my head, gulping audibly. My body is lightning up in his presence, but there's a little hesitation.

"Do you want to show me the rest of the house?" I ask, waving my hand in front of me. He nods.

We walk down a small hallway until it ends in a T, a bedroom on one side, apparently Marvel's, and a bathroom on the other. Then we walk up a narrow staircase. Upstairs, there's another bathroom, a small closet, and then finally, at the end of the hall, is his room. He opens the brown door and the two of us walk in. The first thing I notice is that it's incredibly neat. Everything has a place and there's not a dirty sock in sight. He has a small brown closet tucked into the corner and large bookcase. But, taking up most of the room, is a king size bed with a silky black comforter.

Cato's lips are suddenly on my neck, kissing up and down my smooth skin; his large hands move down my ribs, caressing me through my shirt, until they land on my hips. I exhale as the nervous tension leaves my body, and I raise my arm to tangle my fingers in his silky blonde locks.

He pulls his mouth away from my neck and forces my body to whip around; he crashes his lips into mine furiously. I kiss him back, moaning against his lips, and pulling at the hair at the back of his head. He moves us until my knees hit his bed and we fall down onto it.

I tear at him, ripping open his black shirt and causing the buttons to pop off, eager to feel his skin against mine. In a matter of seconds, all of our clothes are thrown around the room and we're slipping under his silky sheets in just our underwear. He grins down at me, pinning my arms to my side, and grinds himself against me; I release a silent moan. God, I'm so ready.

"I've missed you, baby," he groans into my neck, sucking and tonguing my skin; I know there's going to be a mark there tomorrow. "But now you're mine again."

* * *

_"Peeta, this is ridiculous!" _

_I set the heaviest box known to man onto the large kitchen island with an unnecessarily loud groan, then turn to him, crossing my arms over my chest._

_"Kat, I'm sorry. I have a lot of kitchen supplies," he says, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, removing the sweat that's collected there from moving in the hot July sun._

_"Obviously." I wave my hands around at the ten large boxes, all filled with kitchen related things. _

_Peeta and I are finally moving in together. We've been talking about it for months, and we found the perfect place. It was short notice, and we only had about four days to move in, but I don't care. This house is so perfect for us. It has two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a large kitchen: the three things we wanted most in a house. There's also a cute dining room and a medium-sized living room, but the other stuff is what's important. _

_"Hey, it's not like you're perfect, babe. Could you have any more records? And the largest record played ever made. I'm pretty sure I broke my back." He places his hand on his lower back and pretends to wince. I chuckle at his expression and he smiles at me, his handsome face lighting up._

_I bite my lip, suddenly nervous. There's been something I've wanted to talk to Peeta about, now that we live together, but I'm not sure how he's going to take it. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, exhale loudly, and take the plunge. "So, um, I think we need to have a rule." Peeta starts to exit the kitchen and I follow him. We take the few steps to the living room, and then he stops and turns to me, his eyes questioning._

_"Okay, what?" _

_"You need to keep the one night stands to a minimum." _

_His hand suddenly grabs my wrist and he pulls me closer to him. His blue eyes are probing into mine. His eyes do this sometimes, and it bewilders me; it's like his gaze has the ability to see right through me. "May I ask why?"_

_I suppress a shiver. Because I don't like the girls he chooses. They are always so damn perky and full of energy and so happy to be with him. It makes me sick. "Because I don't want to hear you having sex, obviously," I joke, lying subtly—though it is true. Hearing other people have sex is the most awkward thing in the world. And the idea of Peeta having sex—ugh; that just makes me feel uncomfortable._

_"You've known me for three years, Kat; you know I'm not the guy that has one night stands anyway." He raises his eyebrows up at me. "Is there another reason you're making this rule?" _

_Suddenly, the joking is gone. Vanished. What is he getting at? His eyes are dark and serious and staring at me unrelentingly. _

_I open my mouth, ready to say the thoughts whirling around in my head, when the door is thrown open, startling the both of us. Gale plows through our new living room and walks to where we stand. Peeta drops my wrist. I suddenly feel incredibly cold._

_"Are you guys done moving?" Gale asks, running a hand through his gorgeous brown hair. I see Peeta stiffen beside me. Even though we've been dating for almost year, Peeta sometimes gets a little hostile when it comes to Gale. I'm not sure why, but he just gets short with him—like everything Gale says is annoying._

_"Yeah, we just finished," I reply, my eyes flitting over Gale's shoulder to my best friend; he still looks hardened. Huh. _

_"Well it looks good. Do you want to show me your room?" Gale asks. I nod and turn around, walking towards the end of the hall, leaving Peeta behind. Whatever his issue is, he'll need to get over it soon. I'm sure Gale will be spending the night here often. I turn to the left and hop into my new room; Gale shuts the door behind us._

_"So, it's pretty cool rig—" I'm silenced mid-sentence as Gale pulls me towards him and presses his lips against mine. He pins me against the wall, his hips rubbing against mine and I find that he's already hard. But I push him away._

_"Gale, no. I'm not gonna have sex with Peeta right down the hall unpacking," I say, shoving his shoulders a little more. But he doesn't move away from me; he just moves his hand downward and begins to touch me through my jeans as his lips kiss down my neck. _

_"Come on, Catnip. I want you so bad," he whispers, nibbling at my collarbone._

_"Gale, no!" I give him one more shove and he finally releases me. He huffs out an angry breath and glares at me with annoyance._

_"Is this how it's gonna be now?! Now that you live with Peeta, your emotion husband, you won't want to be with me anymore?" He growls Peeta's name—like it's a sin._

_I cross my arms over my chest, rolling my eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?" Gale sometimes gets into his head like this. He goes on these large rants that are completely pointless—he's not going change what's happening, so what's the point in yelling about it? And this is kinda like that._

_"You and Peeta, obviously! You have some connection; and now that you live together, he's going to make a move!" _

_I move past him, walking over to the other side of the room, trying to separate myself from him as far as humanly possible. "You're an idiot. And Peeta and I aren't like that. I figured you'd know that, considering I've been fucking _you_ for a year." _

_"Whatever." He marches across the room to me and leans down to give me a quick peck on the cheek. "Just call me when you decide to stop being ignorant."_

_And then he leaves, slamming the door behind him. I let out an angry, long grunt and throw myself down on my bare mattress. Why does he have to do this? Get so moody when things don't have to be filled with drama. I'm starting a new chapter in my life with Peeta—he should be happy for me. Not making up stuff about Peeta being my "emotional husband." Whatever the hell that means. _

_Not two minutes after I hear the front door close, Peeta enters my room and falls down on the bed next to me._

_"You guys fought again?" he asks, even though I pretty sure he already knows the answer. He probably heard us yelling, and he definitely heard the banging of doors._

_"What else do we do?" I joke, but it stings; because it's true. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Gale, but all we do is fight—we rarely see eye to eye. And it's terrible sometimes._

_"Well, I'm sorry about that." His face turns to me and I turn mine to him. He stares at me, his indigo eyes bleeding truth. He lifts his left hand and sets it on my neck. His soft fingers linger on my skin, running up and down straining tendons; his touch causes a strange, welcome heat take over my body. "But now you're mine again."_

* * *

I sit up in bed, startling Cato. He looks at me with quizzical eyes, still dark with arousal.

"I—I'm s—sorry," I stutter, wigging underneath him. He rolls aside and I crawl out from under his weight. I rapidly search from my clothes in the darkness, tripping over my own feet. What am I doing? How could I be so stupid? Peeta is who I want. There's no point in denying it anymore. I don't want a meaningless fling with Cato, or an even a long relationship with him. I want to love my best friend until I explode; even if he doesn't want me back.

"Katniss, are you alright?" Cato's asks, his voice concerned.

"Yeah, shit, Cato. I fucked up." I pull on my sweater over my head and finally look at him. "You're a good guy. And I wish I wanted to get lost in your body, because you are so unbelievably good at doing exactly what takes to do that." He gives me a soft, sexy smile. "But there's someone else. And I thought I wanted to get over him, but I don't."

He nods his head knowingly. "Your roommate, right?"

I furrow my eyebrows, struggling into my jeans. "How did you know?"

"You kinda moaned his name when I kissed you." I palm my face. Wow. I'm an asshole. He shakes his head at me, lifting up his hand. "Don't worry about it. We both knew it was just sex, so my feelings aren't hurt too much—just my ego." He gives a dry laugh. "I'll see you around, okay?"

I nod, grab my bag, and run out of the room.

* * *

When I enter the house, Peeta is facing the door as he sits on the sofa, his sketchbook perched on his knees, his head bent and his hand flying over the page.

He looks up as he hears me, confusion overwhelming his beautiful features. He glances down at his father's old watch and then back up to me. "You're home early."

I nod. And then before I think about how stupid it is, or how close I am to revealing everything, I just say what I need. "I need you, Peeta."

He jumps off the couch and walks over to me. He puts one of his big hands on my cheek and intertwines his other with mine. "You have me."

My heart swells in my chest as my pulse races. I know that his words are only in friendship, but it makes me love him even more. "Will you sleep in my bed tonight?" I ask, leaning into his hand.

He nods his head, his blue eyes filling with worry. "Always. Let's go."

He drops his hand from my cheek, pulling me towards my room at the end of the hall. We strip down to our underwear before crawling under the covers. He wraps his strong arms around me and I tuck my head into his shoulder, breathing deeply. Cato's body didn't feel anything close to this. This is perfection.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, after the minutes have passed. "Did Cato do anything?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine. He didn't do anything."

"Kitty, you don't sound fine. You sound broken." His hands begin to trail up and down my spine, shivers breaking out all over my skin.

I shake my head again. "It's nothing. I just, I just…" I trail off, words failing me. I just love you and just wanted to see you. I just remember everything you've ever said to me. I just wish things were different and wish you loved me back. But the words are stuck on my tongue, and I can't seem to let them fall. "Just hold me."

So he does. Until the moon disappears and the sun rises, he holds me to him. He sleeps noiselessly, still wrapped around me, but I can't seem close my eyes. Because I don't want to wake up in a world that isn't his arms.

* * *

**Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And I know a lot of you didn't like the whole Cato thing, so I hope this pleased you! :D The flashback was a little happier this time, so you guys don't fall into a heap of depression. I should have the next chapter out in a few days. Thank you so much for the follows and reviews and favorites. It warms my heart. You are all so amazing. If you have any hopes or ideas of things to come, be sure to let me know! I love hearing your visions.**


	6. Chapter 6

I want to have sex with Peeta again. I need to. He's slept with me every night these last few days and it's been truly amazing. My nightmares are gone, I feel well rested for the first time in years, and his skin rubs against mine so perfectly I feel as though I'm going to burst. But I just—I need more. What I wouldn't do to feel his lips against mine again. And not the kiss he gave me when he was apologizing, but a knee-weakening, world-altering, panty-drenching kiss that makes me see stars.

But the question is: how do I do it? And then it dawns on me while I am restocking my mint leaves at work. Alcohol. I just need to replay exactly what happened the first time we had sex. Except this time, I'm gonna be taking off my clothes first.

After work, I drive to the liquor store and grab as many bottles of Irish whiskey I can. Well, not really. I only buy two because the bitch behind the counter gives me the stink eye.

When I tumble into the house, ten minutes before Peeta's class is supposed to finish, I sprint to my room to change. I throw off my work clothes and pull on tight tank top and pair of his boxer briefs that I wear to bed sometimes. He gave them to me years ago, before we even moved in together, after I told him I love sleeping in boxers, but Gale never wanted to give me any of his. They are covered in yellow duckies. I have no idea where he got them, but they are hilarious. I figure a little bit of history will help with the whole bed thing; maybe he will think about all the things we've done before. Wait. What if he doesn't even remember giving them to me? Shit.

I decide to keep them on anyway, and run to the kitchen to get out the shot glasses. I grab two and go to the living room to set them on the side table, next to the alcohol, and then put in a Death Cab for Cutie CD into the stereo in the corner. It's one of his favorite bands, and what better music to have sex to than your favorite.

I tidy up the place, which I totally suck at, but Peeta keeps everything pretty clean anyways, so all I have to do is fluff a few pillows and tuck a few blankets under the couch. I'm unbraiding my hair—Peeta loves my hair down—when the door is thrown open.

Peeta stomps in and tosses his messenger bag on the ground. He's obviously pissed at something.

"Hey, Peety," I say warily, watching him with quizzical eyes. His glance moves up from the floor and lands on me, startled. He must have not noticed me standing here.

"Hey. You're wearing the boxers I gave you," he says, a small smiling moving onto his lips. The tension seems to leave his face almost immediately.

I nod my head, my chest warming. He remembers. "Are you okay?"

He walks over to where I'm standing and leans towards me. I close my eyes, ready to feel his lips against mine, but instead I feel his face snuggle into the crook of my neck. I open my eyes again; okay, this is good enough. I lift my arms and wrap them around his broad shoulders.

"Some unknown number was calling me, so I answered it," he starts.

"Because letting it go to voicemail wouldn't be polite," I finish.

"Yes. Because it wouldn't be polite. And it was Madge. The bitch called me from some random phone because she knew I would answer." He pulls his head out of my neck and then plops himself down on the couch, exhausted. I join him, cuddling up to his side and placing a hand on his chest. He looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but continues his story. "She told me she was still in love with me, and she wanted to try again. She said that Gale and she had only done it a few times, but when I caught them, she realized how much she wanted me. She told me she wants to marry me one day, and she can see us starting a family together."

My hand falls from his chest as dread fills mine. Oh god. If he goes back to her, it will kill me. From the day they he introduced me to her, I knew I didn't like them together.

* * *

_It's twenty minutes past the time Peeta said he would meet me at the bar. And he's never late. Gale backed out, saying he didn't feel like getting drunk tonight; but I do, and I'm on my second scotch and soda. I'm supposed to meet the newest girl Peeta's dating, and dear lord, I hope she's better than the last one. I don't ever want to find one of his girlfriends making out with another guy in the middle of a grocery store. Having to tell him that practically killed me—he looked so desperately disappointed and distraught. _

_If this bitch cheats on him, I will punch her._

_Finally, after I've finished my third drink, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, and my vision immediately zooms to his fascinatingly indigo eyes. He looks good tonight; he's wearing my favorite black blazer of his and a red plaid button-up tucked into dark blue jeans. _

_"Katniss, I want you to finally meet: Madge. My girlfriend." Peeta's hand waves to the side, and I finally look away from him. The girl is beautiful. Her hair is a whiskey color, and it's tied back with a pink ribbon. She's wearing a white summer dress that cuts off just above her knees, and her perfectly French manicured claws are wrapped around my best friend's bicep. _

_I suddenly feel angry at this girl. She's moving in on my territory. Peeta is my best friend and I just know, behind her innocent, huge blue eyes, weirdly similar to Peeta's, she's plotting to steal him away from me. She's probably jealous that he lives with a chick and feels threatened. Well she should. Because I will attack her if she hurts him._

_"It's nice to meet you, Katniss. Peeta has told me a lot about you," Madge says. Her voice is high and small and her eyes are radiating truth. She throws out her right hand and I clasp it and give it a hearty shake._

_"You too," I slur. Okay, so the drinks are officially in my bloodstream. _

_Peeta takes a step towards me, and Madge's hand falls from his arm; I feel the weight on my chest lift a little bit. "Kitty, are you okay?" He lifts his big hand and places it on my cheek. He tilts my head back and examines my face, his blue eyes flitting across my features. His cool skin feels so good against my flushed face._

_"Yeah, I'm fine. It just took you guys awhile to get here and I had a few drinks." He nods, and lets his hand drop down to his side again. _

_"I'm sorry about that. It was my fault. I was keeping him…occupied," Madge smiles at Peeta suggestively and his face turns a deep red. _

_"Oh, you were fucking?" I yell, my filter removed by the alcohol. The random guy a seat down from me at the bar looks at me, his eyes wide in surprise, but I just ignore him. "That makes sense." _

_"Kitty, what the hell? Keep it down," Peeta chastises me, his slightly peeved face turning redder. _

_I laugh, but I'm actually surprised. They've only been on like five dates. Normally, Peeta waits longer before he sleeps with someone—not that he'd ever tell me that himself. But I can always tell. It's not until he's been dating a girl for at least a month and a half before he comes home with a spring in his step and goofy smile on his face that reads: I just got laid. _

_"So what are your intentions, Miss Madge?" I grill, pointing my finger at her. She immediately stiffens beside Peeta, her big eyes getting even bigger. "No, I'm totally kidding. I'm not going to give you the third degree. I'm just gonna say that Peeta is my best friend. And I'm not afraid to kill you if you hurt him." I chug my fourth scotch and soda that was just placed in front of me and cringe after the glass is empty. _

_Peeta snatches it out of my hand and puts in on the bar counter. "Okay, that's enough. You are getting out of line—I'm cutting you off." He pulls me off the stool, and I stumble a little into his chest. He grabs my wrist and wraps my arm around his shoulder. "Madge, I'll be back in five minutes. I'm just gonna sober her up a bit and call her a cab." She nods her head and leans forward to kiss his cheek, then her eyes move to me and she smiles, her white teeth shining._

_"It was fun meeting you, Kitty. I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot of you." _

_"Don't call me that," I sneer at her. That's Peeta's nickname—not for public use._

_Peeta apologizes for my tone and then drags me towards the back of the bar like I'm a little kid. I'm not even that drunk—I don't understand why he's doing this._

_"What crawled up your ass tonight?" he asks as he pulls me into the unisex bathroom. He pushes me down on the couch, which I'm sure is used for sex more than sitting, and locks the door. He hauls me up again and then moves us to the sink, lifting me up and setting me on the counter. He pulls a paper towel out of the contraption on the wall and immediately places it under the faucet—turning it on with a flick of his wrist. _

_"I'm just protecting you, Peety. I love you." He stops wetting the paper towel—his entire body freezing. Shit. I've never actually said that to him before. But he must know how I feel; we've been best friends for years—of course I love him. I've just never been one to express my emotions. I haven't even told Gale that I'm in love with him yet, and it's been almost a year and a half._

_He pulls the paper towel out from under the water and squeezes the excess before putting it on my forehead. His blue eyes move to mine, bright and open; a smile tugs at his red lips. "I love you too, Kitty." He leans in and gives me a small kiss on the cheek. "But you can't be rude to my girlfriend like that. I want you to like her—because I really like her. And if my best friend doesn't approve of her, well, it's going to suck. Because though I would choose you, without a doubt, I don't want to choose at all. This could really go somewhere; I can feel it." I see happiness light up his face. But I feel darkness seep into my stomach. _

_"I'll be nice to her," I whisper. _

_But I don't like her. And I can't figure out exactly why._

* * *

"What did you say to her?" I ask, biting my lower lip.

"I told her the truth: that I don't see that anymore."

My eyes fly up from my lap and land on his face, shock lighting up my body. He doesn't? Peeta must see the surprise on my face, because he nods. He grabs the bottle of whiskey next to him and twists it open; he tips it back, forgoing the shot glass and takes several large gulps. When he finally passes it to me, I do the same. We hand the bottle back and forth until our skin is flushed and my brain starts to feel foggy. He sets the bottle back on the side table and relaxes into the couch.

"I mean, god, I'm still not over her," he starts again. "My chest still hurts when I think about her. But I don't want to be with her anymore—it's just not right." He looks at me, his blue eyes soft. "And I'm starting to realize it wasn't just the cheating. She wasn't the one for me." I feel myself lean into him, drawn in by his words. His blue eyes darken, becoming hungrier; I watch as his tongue darts out of his mouth and runs along his bottom lip. I suddenly realize his fingers are caressing my bare thigh. I lift my hand and set it back on his chest, digging my nails into the firm muscles.

"Katniss, I…" he trails off, his lips only a few inches from mine. Oh god. It's going to happen again. Thank the lord.

But life has a way of interrupting.

My cell rings, startling the two of us, and we fly apart. And unfortunately, it brings Peeta back into reality; he shakes his head, and gets up off the couch, leaving me alone to answer it.

I lift it to my ear, irrational anger swelling inside me for the person on the other line. "What?" I growl into the phone.

"Woah, Katniss. A little stressed, are we?" Finnick's voice purrs.

I instantly relax. You can't be too upset when you are talking to Finnick. He's too much of a flirting jokester. "You could say that." I rub my temple with my thumb and forefinger. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to meet me at the bar, say ten-ish?" he asks, his voice a little higher than usual. "I wanted to get shitfaced, and you've seemed a little on edge the last few weeks and I figure you could use a night out."

I glance at the clock in the corner; it's barely past 6:00. I feel a little tipsy right now, but I know that by the time ten rolls around I'll be complete sober. "Sure," I say shrugging my shoulders, even though he can't see me. "Why not?"

I practically see him grin through the phone. "Awesome. _The Hob _sound good?"

"Sounds good."

We say our goodbyes and I flop down on the couch, palming my face. Shit. I was so close to Peeta again. I can still feel the adrenaline of the moment running through my veins.

But I lost the opportunity.

And I don't think I'll ever be able to find it again.

* * *

My fist hits Peeta's door with three soft knocks and he calls for me to enter. As I throw open the door, I immediately feel a smile form on my face. I love his room. It's so neat and organized and painted in different shades of orange. His walls are covered in his sketches, the scenes varying from sunsets over the mountains to couples sitting on benches.

But my favorite picture is the one he has above the headboard of his king size bed. It's a charcoal painting of the two of us at my father's funeral. One of his hands is intertwined with mine while the other one is wrapped around the back of my head as he holds me to his chest, where I sob. I remember it so vividly. The numbness in my limbs vanished for one brief moment in time as he held me, and I knew that I could get better again; if my best friend helped me.

Peeta is sprawled out on his bed, his legs crossed in front of him; his hand is flying across the pages of his sketchbook. His eyes lift to me momentarily before they go back to his drawing. "Do you need something?" he asks me in a clipped tone. What's wrong with him?

"I'm, uh, going to the bar. I just wanted to let you know," I say, nervously adjusting my black, ruffled top.

"Thanks for the update. I'll see you later." I nod and turn around, leaving him behind. But he says one last thing before I grab the handle of his door. "You look really beautiful, by the way."

I goofy grin lights up my face; but I don't turn around. I don't want him to see how giddy I'm getting over a simple compliment. "Thanks, Peeta."

The drive to _The Hob_, a quaint little bar downtown, isn't too long, and I'm pulling into the parking lot five minutes before the time Finnick and I agreed upon. I find an open seat at the bar and order myself a gin and tonic from the cute bartender as I wait. I tried to dress up a bit, though it's only just a hang session with Finnick; I put the cute top Peeta gave me for Christmas last year and a pair of deep blue skinny jeans. And of course, I slipped into my worn converse. But now I think it's too much. The top is a little too fancy and the jeans are a little too tight.

However, my worrying is cut off when Finnick plops into the seat next to me.

"Wow, you look gorgeous," he says with a wink. I roll my eyes. Finnick and his flirting. He's dressed in a deliciously tight green v-neck that causes his eyes to glow and black jeans paired with a leather jacket. He looks waaaaaaaaaaay too good for a human being. I can see every woman's eyes in the bar fly to him. "Shots?"

"Abso-fucking-loutely." I need to remove the memory of the soft pads of Peeta's fingers caressing my inner thigh from my brain. Finnick orders a round of whiskey shots for the two of us, and shrugs out of his jacket; his toned back muscles ripple with the movement. When the alcohol is placed in front of me, I immediately toss it back—so Finnick orders another round. And another.

"So why did you want to get drunk?" I ask after my skin starts to buzz, licking my lips.

"I have herpes." My eyes fly from my empty shot glass to him. Fuck, talk about TMI. Finnick lets out a soft chuckle. "No, I'm totally kidding. But my great aunt Mags, who basically raised me, just passed away and I…" he trails off, the humor vanishing. "I just don't want to think about it."

I nod my head. I hear that. I lift my right hand and set it on his that lies on the bar, consoling him. I'm not good at it, but this is the best I can do. Affection always feels nice when you've lost someone—but it has to be from the right person. And though I'm sure I'm not the right person for Finnick, I'll try to be good enough.

He gives me a sad smile. "So now that my dirty laundry is out, it's time for yours."

My chest gets tight, but I just toss back another shot. "There's no dirty laundry here."

He scoffs at me, shaking his head. "That's a lie. Seriously, what's been going on these past few weeks? You seem anxious all the time, and sometimes you get this distant look on your face—like you're remembering something good."

Yeah, Peeta—I don't think anything has ever happened in my life that was that good. And not in just a dirty way. "We're here to forget about our problems, right?" I ask, quirking up my eyebrows. He nods in response. "Well I want to forget. For just one night, I want to forget about him."

"Him?" Finnick inquires, shifting his body towards me.

I think about not telling him, and just ignoring him entirely, but he did divulge information to me that he didn't have to. So I'll give him a little. "Yeah; I want to forget about him."

Finnick doesn't press me for any more information—he just orders another round. After the next drink, the somber tension leaves immediately. Finnick talks animatedly, his hands flying back and forth in front of his body as he tells me stories about the hilarious antics he's gotten into with his friend Johanna. The chick sounds crazy, but highly hilarious. This is one of the few times we've hung out outside of work, and I have no clue why we haven't earlier. He's great—kind, funny, charming—and just fun to be around.

But the more and more I drink, it seems like the less I'm able to focus on Finnick, and my thoughts begin to travel to Peeta. I keep on seeing his blue eyes instead of Finnick's green ones; or his strong, square jaw instead of Finnick's rounded one. The last time I got intoxicated like this, was the night we were together, and I find myself eager to go home to him and apologize for making him feel uncomfortable earlier.

When it's finally last call, I stumble out of my chair and make my way towards the door, Finnick following me dutifully.

"You're getting a cab, right?" he asks when step outside onto the thin sidewalk.

"Yeah, of course." I turn and look up at him. He's taller than me—taller than Peeta too. "Tonight was fun."

He grins, nodding his head. Then he lifts one of his hands and places it on my cheek and slowly bends down to give me a small kiss on my numb lips. It's short and soft, but there's something behind it—something more than just drunk sexual tension. He pulls away and stands up straight again, his grin returning.

"I hope you forget about your 'him,' Katniss," he says, and then walks off, down the sidewalk, giving me a small wave goodbye.

* * *

When the yellow cab rolls up in front of my little house, I decide to turn off my ever working mind. As soon as the door is locked behind me, I begin to tear off my constricting clothes, making my way towards my best friend's bedroom. I creak open his door and Peeta, being a light sleeper, immediately wakes up.

"Kat?" he asks groggily, rubbing his eyes. Without responding, I climb onto his bed, crawling towards him. I slip under his covers and snuggle up to him; he watches me with curious, sleepy eyes. I move my eyes away from his and let my right hand run up his sculpted torso, ignoring the fear in the back of my mind that he doesn't want me to.

"I'm sorry, Peeta," I whisper, my fingers dancing across his firm pecs. "I don't know why you're mad at me, but I'm sorry. I hate it when we fight." I continue to stare at the movement of his chest as it rises and falls with his shallow breaths. I watch as goose bumps form along his clavicle and I refrain from leaning forward and sucking on his delicious, pale skin.

Peeta takes a shaky breath. "I just don't want us to be a mistake," he whispers, his hot breath skimming my forehead. I furrow my eyebrows. What exactly is he saying? "Katniss, if we did this…" he trails off. His hand is traveling up my back, his touch light but determined.

Suddenly, the world turns, and not in a good way; my stomach churns, the alcohol eager to make its reappearance. I bolt out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, using the connecting door Peeta has in his room. I barely make it to the toilet before the whiskey comes back up, burning my throat along the way.

Peeta's beside me in matter of seconds, pulling my hair back from my face. His voice is soft and reassuring in my ear as the hand not holding my hair runs up and down my left arm; my face is resting on the porcelain. I knew I was drunk, but I didn't think I was _that_ drunk.

I stay there, kneeling on the bathroom floor, for at least fifteen minutes, waiting for my stomach to settle, before I think I'm ready to go back to bed. I rinse out my mouth with water from a cup that Peeta hands me, spit the water into the bowl and flush it. I start to sit up, ready to go to my room when Peeta's arms are wrapped around me. He lifts me up off the ground and carries back to his room like I weigh nothing more than a bag of flour; he lays me down on his flannel sheets, then moves the trashcan from the corner and places it on the floor next to where I'm resting.

He crawls back into his bed on the other side, but he doesn't cuddle with me like he normally does. He just turns his back to me and buries his face into his pillow.

I rack my brain, hoping I didn't make a mistake by touching him. But I don't think I did. So why is he distant now?

* * *

**Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, though I'm sure it made a few of you frustrated! :) Thank you so much for all the support. I really enjoyed writing this flashback, and if you have been wondering, you will find out the story of "always" in the flashback next chapter! And for those that read my other stories, be prepared to get updates for those within the next few days. **


	7. Chapter 7

It's been over two weeks since I vomited and ruined the moment between me and Peeta, and there is still tension between us—all coming from him. He isn't laughing or smiling or talking like he normally does. He leaves the room almost every time I enter it, and when I try to talk to him, he gives me monosyllable grunts in response. I even tried to crawl into his bed one night, only to find that his door was locked. He's avoiding me and I have no idea what the hell is going on. All I know is that I don't like it.

So I've been throwing myself into work. Finnick has been hanging around more, and it's a happy distraction. When I'm with him, I forget about all the silence that's happening at home. We've gone out to the bar a few times, but never to get wasted like we did. We just end up ordering a beer and talking for hours until last call. But he's no Peeta.

Sure, I can talk to Finnick—but it's all surface level. I don't tell him about my family or my rocky relationship with Gale or even about my best friend. We talk about great foods, favorite winter activities and sports. Actually, he does most of the talking. I think he knows that I'm not really a talker—not with anyone that isn't Peeta.

"Do you wanna go out tonight?" Finnick asks, walking into my office as my last patient of the day exits it. I pull off my gloves and go to my sink, washing away the herbs on my hands I just used for the last patient's acne.

"Yeah, sure," I reply as I dry my hands. I turn away from the sink and look to him; he's standing a few feet away from me, scratching his head nervously.

"I meant, like, on an actual date. Not the friends-having-drinks-at-the-bar thing we've been doing—a legitimate date. You dress up, I pay for food, you put out." He smirks at me to show that he's joking about that last part. "I like you, Katniss. And I know you are trying to get over 'him,' but I still like you. And I think you might like me too."

I walk to my desk and begin to collect my things in silence. Should I go on a date with Finnick? He's a good guy, and damn he's fine, but…Peeta. He's not Peeta. And though he hasn't been speaking to me, it doesn't mean I've stopped loving him. I…God, I love him with everything I have. But Finnick…is good too. Yeah, there's no way I'm going to be able to figure this out right now.

"Can I think about it?" I ask, lifting my head to look at him. His sea green eyes are staring at me intensely, and I feel a drop in my stomach. A good drop.

"Of course," he says without hesitation. He grins at me, the tension leaving the room. "I'll talk to you later?"

I nod my head and he exits, still smiling like kid at Disneyland.

* * *

When I get home, Peeta is in the kitchen, making something that smells deliciously like cheese buns. I change out of my work clothes and join him, walking cautiously to where he's standing at the kitchen island.

"Hi Peety," I whisper, nervously twirling the end of my braid around my forefinger. He looks up from his slab of dough, gives me a nod of recognition, then goes back to kneading.

"Was work good today?" I ask, and again, he nods in response.

And then, I just lose it.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!"

I stomp towards him, and grab his face in my hands, forcing him to truly look at me for the first time in two weeks. His blue eyes are desperately sad as they penetrate mine—but I have no idea why.

"TALK TO ME!" I shout.

But still he's silent. Fuck this. We're getting to the bottom on this now.

"I've had enough of this bullshit," I say as I start to unbutton his plaid flannel shirt as fast as humanly possible. When I reach the last button at his collar, I throw it open and pull the garment down his arms. "Peeta, when you are silent, it's the most terrifying thing on this planet." I work on his jeans, popping open the button and unzipping them before I grab two of the belt loops on his hips and rip them down his legs until they rest at his ankles. "You're scaring me. I'm freaking out."

I look up to his eyes, now filled with confusion and guilt, along with the sadness. But still—no words leave his beautiful, red lips. So I pull off my clothes—shedding my shirt and sweats in a matter seconds.

I flick off the light switch behind me, and step towards him, until my eyes rest at his collarbone, only a few inches from me. I lift his left arm and hold it to the middle of my back, then begin to run my right hand up and down his chest. "We're going back to that night two weeks ago," I whisper, looking up to his face; it's tilted down to me as he watches my hand caress his front. I clench my teeth. "And if you don't spill, I swear to God, I will kill you."

My body is humming, being so close to him again after this absence and I want nothing more than to wind my hands into his hair and pull his lips to mine—kissing him until I come apart in his arms. But I can't. I raise my eyebrow up at him, indicating it's about fucking time that he talks. He lets out a shaky breath, shaking his head.

So I take one too. "Look, I know I've done a lot of things throughout the years and I know I've hurt you, but Peeta, this is killing me. You can talk to me. You've always been able to talk to me. So what's changed? What happened that night? Please, explain it to me."

His breathing falters. He's breaking down—so I go for the kill shot. I remove the left hand that I have holding his on my back; he continues to keep his hand there, and begins to trail it up and down like he did that night. I lift my hand and cup his face, skimming my thumb along the deep sleep circles under his eyes. "Always, Peety. Always."

* * *

_I'm sitting on our couch, watching mindless Christmas TV, when Peeta comes home, his hair wet with new snow. He sheds his jacket and snow boots before he joins me on the sofa, holding a bag from our favorite Chinese place. We dig almost immediately as he talks about his day; someone almost chopped off their finger, and he had to whip out his handy first aid kit as they waited for the ambulance to arrive. We toss the boxes back and forth, sharing our noodles and chicken and eggrolls. _

_We've developed a pattern since my father passed away two months ago, just three months after we moved in together. Peeta read somewhere that it was healthy to do that. We wake up, most days at different times, then we both go to work; and when we come home, Peeta brings dinner or makes it for us. Then we watch TV or read together or sometimes we go out. A few nights a week, Gale joins us after dinner, but the rest of the time it's just the two of us. Just me and my best friend. _

_When dinner is over, I sprawl out on the couch, placing my head in Peeta's lap. Gale is working late at the bar tonight, so he won't be coming over. Peeta's hand immediately moves to my forehead, brushing the hair away from my eyes. Since he stayed in bed with me those few nights after my father died, I've felt safe in his arms; he just knows how to comfort me. And he's been especially attentive the closer it's gotten to Christmas—now only a week away. Christmas was such a good time for my father and me. We'd spend days decorating the house, listening to holiday music and baking cookies; the house was always filled with laughter. I think that's what I miss the most: hearing him laugh. _

_Peeta changes the channel to the Food Network and we watch together in silence as the chefs compete to create the perfect Christmas feast. But with my overstuffed stomach, and the soothing ministrations of his soft hands, I feel myself drifting off. _

_The annoying chirp of my cell phone startles me awake, but I can tell from my body that I haven't been sleeping for long; Peeta's hand is still stroking my forehead. I dig into the pocket of my sweats and pull out my phone before bringing the dumb thing to my ear. _

_"Hello?"_

_"Katniss?" Prim's voice is quiet and broken, and I immediately sit up. Something's wrong._

_"Prim? What's going on?" I ask urgently, nervous adrenaline spiking my pulse. I feel Peeta's hand on my back but I don't turn to him. I need to figure out what's going on with my sister._

_"Mom's gone," she whispers. And then she breaks down, her loud sobs practically bursting my ear drums. _

_I jump off the couch, run to the door and begin to pull on my boots. "What do you mean she's gone? What happened?"_

_"Katniss, I haven't been honest with you. Mom's been a wreck since the funeral. She hasn't left the basement and I've had to force her to eat because she won't do it on her own. And when I got home from work, I found a note. She says she's not coming back." _

_What the hell?! Why didn't Prim tell me this earlier? She's only seventeen years old—she shouldn't have to deal with this all on her own. I would have taken a semester off and gone home. "I'm on my way home. Don't move a muscle; I'll be there as soon as I can," I say, pulling my jacket off the hook by the door._

_"I love you. I'll see you soon."_

_"Love you, too." _

_I hang up and turn to see Peeta double knotting his boots. He looks up at me before he slips on his jacket too. "Let me grab a bag and then we'll go," he says and sprints out of the room, down the hall towards his. _

_He returns only minutes later with a bag thrown over his shoulder. "Let's go, Kitty." _

_We run out to his truck and peel out of our spot as fast as possible. I retell everything Prim said to me, and I watch as Peeta's hands grip the steering wheel tighter. _

_"I wish she would have said something. We could have found some counseling for your mom, and we could have moved Prim in with us." He removes one of his hands and runs it through his hair nervously. I love how he says "we." God, I have the greatest best friend in the world._

_We stay silent the rest of the drive, and even with the snow, it only takes us two hours to get to my childhood home. As soon as the car is put into park, I shoot out of it and run toward the house, with Peeta close behind me. I throw open the small door and plow into the living room. Prim is curled up on the couch, tears streaming down her beautiful, red face._

_I jog towards her and immediately fold her into my arms. She tucks her face into my neck and bawls, her nails digging into my thighs. I whisper words of reassurance to her, but I don't feel like anything I'm saying is true. I don't know if it will be alright. I don't know if she'll come home. I don't know if we will figure everything out. _

_It's a least a half an hour later when Peeta kneels down on carpet in front of the couch where we are sitting, two mugs in his hands. Prim's tears have dried up for the most part and she turns to him and takes the cup he offers. He presses a quick peck to her forehead, and then hands me my mug; he runs his hand down my calf, a motion to tell me he'll be here when I need him, and then leaves us to talk._

_"I'm sorry I didn't say anything," Prim mumbles after we take a sip of our hot cider._

_I nod my head. "I know you are."_

_"We are actually doing okay money-wise. Dad's life insurance has really helped. But mom has just been…empty."_

_I shudder. I know what that is like. I felt empty for a week until Peeta helped me out of it. But I guess mom has only loved dad—and she was lost without him. But it's no excuse to leave your daughter; I feel the anger welling inside me. What a selfish bitch. _

_"Can we just talk about this tomorrow?" Prim asks, her innocent voice laced with fatigue. "I'm really tired and I'm sure you are too. You and Peeta drove all this way."_

_I give her a sad smile. "Yeah, of course, Little Duck. We'll talk tomorrow." _

_She gives me another hug then sets her cider on the coffee table and gets off the couch and walks down the short hallway to our parent's old room, shutting the door behind her. I set my cider down on the table too just as Peeta joins me—wrapping one of his arms around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him. I look up at him and meet his beautiful, sad, blue eyes. His lifts his other hand and cups my face. _

_Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, I pull him forward until his forehead presses against mine just as the first sob escapes my mouth. She left. My mother left without saying goodbye. And I'll probably never see her again. Just like my father. _

_I'm back here in the house I loved so much, and all the warmth it ever had is gone. Because they are gone. It's as if the good times spent here have vanished with them. Peeta pulls me onto his lap and wraps both of his arms around me, still keeping his forehead to mine. _

_I cry mutely, the silence of the room only interrupted when I take a shaky breath. After the tears stop, Peeta lifts me up and begins to walk me down the hall. I used to share a room with Prim when we were growing up, but Prim moved has been sleeping in my parent's bed since my father died. She told me it was because she wanted to be with mom, but now I'm realizing that mom has probably slept in the basement, with all of my father's old things. _

_Peeta's only been here once before, but he obviously remembers the layout and automatically takes me to my old room at the end of the hall. He lays me down on the quilted bed, which he must have turned down earlier, and then throws the covers back over me. He crouches down so he can look at me at eye level. _

_"I brought your toothbrush and stuff in my bag, along with some pants and underwear and other clothes—all the essentials. I set them in the corner." He points to the chair that rests only a few feet away from the bed—considering this room is so small. "I'll be on the couch if you need me, Kitty."_

_I grab his hand as he gets up to leave, and pull him back to me. Tears prick my eyes again. I can't have another person leave me. "Please don't," I whisper._

_"Don't what?"_

_"Leave. Sleep with me." _

_He nods and squeezes my hand before letting it go. He moves around to the other side of the bed and sheds his jeans and black button-up before climbing into bed in his boxers and a thin, white t-shirt. I turn my body onto my side and move towards him until his face is only a few inches away from mine. _

_"You don't deserve this," he murmurs, brushing my bangs away from my face and tucking them behind my ear. _

_"That doesn't matter," I whisper, sniffing loudly as the tears pick up again. Peeta plays with my braid, watching me with concerned eyes. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have him. He's…so damn important to me._

_"It should."_

_"Please don't leave me," I say suddenly, the words rushing out of my mouth._

_"I'm not," he says with quizzical eyes._

_"Promise me," I whisper desperately._

_"I promise."_

_"Stay with me," I plead._

_He moves closer to me, and presses his lips to my left cheek. Then he kisses my forehead, and then my chin; my right cheek, and then my nose. "I love you, Katniss. I will be here when you need me and when you don't. I will be there when you scream at me or when you whisper to me. I will cry with you and smile with you and laugh with you. I will hold you until you tell me not to, and I will talk to you until you tell me to stop. I will stay with you. Always."_

_My heart beats in my chest. When it seems like everyone has left me, Peeta's promising to stay with me—and I want to believe him. I don't know what I would do if he wasn't with me. "Always?"_

_His eyes glow in the darkness—a light blue flame. "Always, Kitty. Until the earth explodes and darkness is upon us; until the day I die, and even in the afterlife—I will stay with you. Always."_

_I need him. I will always need him. "Always."_

* * *

He squeezes his eyes shut, and a small tear escapes from the corner. I move closer, pressing up against him and wipe the tear away. My mind is buzzing; what is going on? Where's the Peeta I'm in love with? Or better yet, where's my best friend?

"My heart hurts," he finally whispers.

I breathe a sigh of relief that he's finally speaking again, but it's instantly taken away when I assess his sentence. What does that mean exactly?

"I'm floundering here, Katniss."

"Well you could have just told me. I can try to help you," I plead, stroking his cheek.

He shakes his head. "Not this time. It's different now."

"Why? Why is it different now?"

His eyes flash with something I can't identify. Something that looks suspiciously like— "Because I had you, Katniss," he says, interrupting my train of thought. "For one night—and then I fucked it up."

My heart beats faster in chest. Is he saying what I hope to God I think he is? I remove the hand I have on his chest, squeezed between the two of us, and put on the other side of his face. "Peeta…" I exhale. Please say it. Please.

He leans toward me and I close my eyes, ready to finally kiss him again. But his lips press to my forehead. He holds them there for a long time.

"I'll be okay. You'll always be my best friend. And I'm sorry I've shut you out these past few weeks. It won't happen again," he whispers against my skin.

And my heart breaks a little more.

* * *

I spend the rest of the night in bed, shoving donuts down my throat like they're going out of style. I'm not one that wallows, but right now, I don't give a fuck about what I normally do. I'm wallowing. I'm wallowing hardcore. Sarah McLachlan is playing, I'm buried under my covers and my boyfriends Ben and Jerry are keeping company.

Peeta doesn't want me. That's abundantly clear. It's been over a month since we had our night, and he hasn't said the words. So I'm giving up. No more attempts to seduce him. No more late night cuddle sessions…actually…yeah. I'm gonna keep those. But I'm not gonna try to push myself on him anymore. I don't want to force him to love me. I just want him to love me on his own.

A soft knock interrupts my self-pity and I peek out from under the covers and call from him to enter. Peeta opens the door a few seconds later, carrying a box of pizza. He jumps onto the bed and opens the box for the two of us. It's Hawaiian. Our favorite.

It's a peace offering. He's apologizing for being distant. Together we nibble on the pizza, just listening to the music flowing around my room in the sound system he set up for me.

"You're a better singer than she is," Peeta says mid-bite.

I shake my head. "No way. Sarah McLachlan is…the shit."

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "So are you."

I look at him with disbelief. I'm mediocre—or a little above average. That's why I stopped pursuing a music career.

He flashes me a wiry grin. "I honestly love listening to you play and hearing you sing. It's so beautiful—you are too talented. And you've always had the ability to express how you feel with your music—and you can actually share it with people other than me." He smirks at me. "Are you writing anything new?"

I shake my head, but stop in the middle of it.

Scratch that whole giving up thing. I don't want to do that. I don't want to forget.

I have an idea.

* * *

**Hey guys! Thank you for all the support! I hope you liked the "Always" flashback. It's an important part of the relationship, and I hope it was a good memory to you all. I know you guys are dying to have the two of them get together, but we all know that the lead up before it all happens is practically better than when they are together! ;) But don't worry, it will happen soon. :D Hope you guys are having a lovely holiday season, and I should get another chapter out to you before Christmas! **


	8. Chapter 8

"I can't go on a date with you."

Finnick's easy going smile instantly fades and his forehead wrinkles. We're sitting on the edge of the pool during our lunch break at work, dipping our toes into the warm water. It reeks of chlorine in here, but I actually like the smell. I've always loved swimming, whether it be in a lake with my Dad or in the pool; it relaxes me. This probably isn't the best place to talk about dating, or not dating, but I wanted to tell him as soon as possible after I decided to finally tell Peeta how I feel. My palms start to sweat just thinking about that. I'm gonna tell Peeta I'm in love with him. Fuck.

"I thought you liked me, Katniss. You've been…responsive to my advances these past two weeks," Finnick replies scratching behind his ear.

"I know. And I am interested in you, but—"

"You can't get over 'him?'" he asks, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I'm never going to," I whisper.

He nods his head, his lips pressed into a hard line. I pull my feet out of the water and grab my sandals before leaving the pool and going back to my office. I didn't want to hurt Finnick, and he is a great guy, but he's just not Peeta. It's as simple as that. He isn't the one I dream about, or the one I think about. He's not the one that makes me feel butterflies. He's not the one I'm in love with.

When I've settled back into my comfy chair and have put my sandals back on again, there's a soft knock on the door. Cinna, the secretary, enters not two seconds later.

"There's someone here to see you," he says with wary eyes. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. I wonder who it would be. Peeta, maybe?

But no. Cinna opens the door a little wider a reveals an innocent looking Madge. Fuck. She clicks into my office in her red pumps; her honey is hair pulled away from her face with the same ribbon she wore the day I met her. She sits down in the seat across from me and adjusts her pinstriped skirt.

My anger flares at this bitch. What the hell does she think she's doing here? Peeta won't talk to her, so she thinks she can talk to me and plead her case to him? Fuck that. I hate her now—she must know that.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, forgoing with the pleasantries. I actually kind of liked Madge as a person when she was dating Peeta—I just didn't like her dating Peeta. And though I could never figure out why that was at the time, I definitely know now.

"I wanted to talk about Peeta," she says simply, running her hands down the front of her white button-up.

"What about him?" I sneer at her, my teeth clenched. How dare she even talk about Peeta to me! She can say she cares about him until she's dead, but you obviously don't care about someone enough if you cheat on them.

"I'm in love with him." Uh, yeah, so she says. I get that. Why does she need to tell me this? My fingers are griping the edge of my desk and I can feel the blood rush out of them.

"Your point?"

"And so are you."

I freeze. "What are you talking about?" I lie, trying to calm the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

She uncrosses her legs and leans forward, hovering over my desk. "Katniss, it's obvious. I realized it the day Peeta had to go to the hospital—and I should have realized it sooner."

* * *

_"Katniss?" _

_Madge's voice is soft through my phone. I look at my phone again; it's Peeta's caller ID. Annoyance and anger flare in me, but I ignore it. Whatever. I guess she can call me with his phone. I'd just rather it be my best friend than his girlfriend. I mean, I don't mind Madge, but she's not Peeta._

_"Yeah, what's up?" I ask, holding the cell between my shoulder and my ear as I place my notebook into my backpack. I just finished my last class of the day—like just barely. Peeta knows that, so I guess it's understandable he's not the one on the other line. But why does she have his phone?_

_"You know that I was going to Peeta's class today, right?"_

_"Yeah, he told me."_

_"Well there was a little accident—he's fine, don't worry—but we are in the emergency room at Arena Hospital and he wanted to call you and tell you, but I told him I would do it for him."_

_The phone slips out of my grasp and clatters to the ground, fear overwhelming my body. Peeta's in the hospital? I throw my bag over my shoulder, grab my fallen cell and sprint out of the classroom as fast as humanly possible, thankful that I've been trained to run fast from my hunting trips. I'm pretty sure I knock someone over as I run down the front steps of the building, but I don't look back. I don't care. All I want is to see Peeta._

_I can't lose him. He promised me only five months ago that he would always stay with me, and he can't go. He promised. I can't survive without him, not after everything that's happened recently. First, my father's death, and then my mother's disappearance. And Prim going off to England. I can't be without someone. No, not just someone. Him. I can't be without my best friend._

_Arena Hospital is only about ten blocks away from campus, so I just run there. My backpack bounces on my back and chafes my neck, but I don't pay attention to it. By the time I throw open the doors to the emergency room, I'm pouring sweat and I have a slight spasm in my inner thigh that I get when I'm pushing myself too hard. As I approach the woman sitting behind the front desk, I see her eyes fly up, startled._

_"I need to see Peeta Mellark," I command, wiping my forehead with my forearm. _

_The girl adjusts the collar of her sleeveless shirt and clears her throat. "Let me just look to see if he's here." She begins to look through a stack of files on her desk._

_"He is here. Now just let me see him."_

_"Miss, you need—"_

_"What I need is to see my best friend!" I practically shout. "And if you don't let me, I'm going to reenact that entire scene from _Terms of Endearment_ and go all psycho on you! So just fu—"_

_"I found him," she cuts me off, holding a file in her petite hand. _

_About fucking time. "Thank you for doing your job," I say with a fake smile. She tries to give me a pleasant smile, trying to hold in her annoyance with me, but it dies in the middle. She stands up from her chair and leads me down the hall towards a pair of swinging doors. The grey-specked emergency room is full of beds with ugly green curtains surrounding them. I see Peeta in the bed in the back corner before the woman points him out and I leave her behind, sprinting towards him. _

_His eyes dart up to meet mine, and I'm sure he can see the worry there. _

_"Katniss, what are you doing here?" he asks, but I ignore him. _

_I grab his face in my hands and lean forward to press a hard kiss to his cheek. I've never kissed him before, he's always been the one that gives me a soft kiss on the forehead or cheek, but I have to do it right now. I kiss him again on the other cheek, then pull back and examine is face, my fingers running along his features. Okay, his face isn't hurt. My eyes flick down his chest—still no damage—and then finally rest on his right hand: it's bandaged up with white gauze and lying out on the side of his body. _

_"You promised me, Peety," I whisper; my hands are still holding his face. My entire body starts to shake. I flicker my eyes to meet his again. "You promised you'd stay with me."_

_His blue eyes fill with concern immediately. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere." He tries to give me a smile but it doesn't calm me at all—and he can tell. He pulls me into his lap with his left hand and stokes the top of my thigh._

_"You almost died!" I shout._

_He shakes his head, frowning. "Kitty, I swear, I didn't almost die. I just burned myself grabbing a pan that one of my students set on fire. It was a stupid mistake, but I'm going to be completely fine. Always, remember? I'm not going anywhere." _

_I take a deep breath. I hate being weak like this. But I can't help it. When it comes to Peeta, I'm completely vulnerable. Losing him would break me. _

_I lean in again and press my lips to his jaw one last time, then bury my face into his neck and wrap my arms around his shoulders. There's a faint smell of burning hair, but mostly I inhale his comforting scent and relax into him even more._

_"Always?" I ask again, my voice muffled by his shirt._

_"Always."_

_Suddenly, there's a throat clearing and I pull back from Peeta a little bit to turn my head towards the sound. Madge stands with her hands clasped in front of her. Her bright blue eyes are slit with disapproval and her eyebrows are furrowed. But I don't care if she doesn't like this. They've only been dating for three months and he's still my territory._

_Until there's a ring on her finger, he's all mine._

* * *

"You'd barely been dating then," I say to her.

She nods her head. "And yet I still knew. The only person that doesn't know is Peeta. But that's because he's too wrapped up in his own fear to realize it." She leans back in her chair. "I didn't want to cheat on him—it just happened. But I want you to know that you don't just get him."

"Get him?"

"Yeah. I'm going to fight for him." She stands up. "So game on."

I stand up too, and point my finger at her. I finally have the chance to yell at her, and I'm not going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. "Listen to me, bitch. You've already lost this fight. If you knew Peeta at all, you would know that he hates cheaters more than anything. So as soon as kissed my ex, you lost him—with no chance of ever getting him back. None." I walk around the desk and stand only a few inches from her. "So just remember that the next time you fuck Gale. You have no chance with Peeta anymore. And if you try to touch him again, I make you regret that decision. He's my best friend, and I won't let him get hurt by you, or any other slut, ever again."

She pulls her keys out of her black leather purse. "I'm sure I'll see you soon, Katniss. When you come out of your room one morning to find me making pancakes and wearing only Peeta's shirt."

Then she leaves.

And I throw my stapler at the door.

* * *

I haven't quite figured out the guitar riff yet, but the lyrics came to me last night after Peeta fell asleep next to me, still fully clothed with a piece of pizza lying on his chest. I guess those sleepless nights he's been having caught up to him. Watching him doze beside me was just lyric fuel, and the song is exactly what's going on within me; it's everything I'm feeling and everything I'm thinking. And I'm not scared anymore—I'm just nervous. I want him to feel the same.

When I hear the front door close I get up off my bed, setting my beautiful guitar down on the plush comforter, and go to find Peeta. He's shucking off his leather jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. I sprint down the hallway towards him and wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him to me. He immediately returns the embrace.

"What was that for, exactly?" he asks after I pull away. "Not that I minded—I'm just curious." His blue eyes are dancing with amusement.

"I wanted to hug you before I had to share some news with you," I explain. And I love the feeling of your body against mine.

His eyebrows furrow, and I grab his hand and pull him to the couch. He sits down on his usual side, and I sit on the other. But then I pull his arm, and indicate he should lay his head down on my lap; he does so.

"You're starting to make me nervous, Katniss. What's going on?"

I brush his hair back from his forehead, and gaze into his beautiful eyes. I'm not ready to say the words right now—it's not the right moment—but God, I feel them. This kind man is everything that is good in this world, and I know I'm not deserving of him, but it won't stop me from wanting to be. And wanting him.

"Madge visited me today," I whisper, my voice lowering.

Peeta's whole body tenses and I see his jaw clench, making it even sharper; I run my finger along it, trying to ease his discomfort.

"She really wants you back Peeta, but I made it abundantly clear that she needs to back the fuck off or shit will go down."

"Did you hit hurt?" he asks, his voice shaking slightly.

My lips tug into a half smile. "I really wanted to. But I didn't. Not this time."

He gives me a small smirk. "But next time you will?"

I nod my head, wearing a full blown grin. "Hell yes." My ring finger curls a strand of his blonde hair. "She doesn't get to fuck over my best friend and come away from it without a scratch or two."

A chuckle escapes his throat. "Are you hungry, babe?"

I love it when he calls me that. It only happens once in a millennium, but it always makes my stomach flip. "Starved."

* * *

_"Katniss," he purrs into my ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and biting it gently; my breath picks up in response. _

_A bead of sweat travels between my breasts and he follows it with his mouth—all the way down my body until he reaches my center. He hitches my legs over his shoulders as he plants lingering kisses up and down my inner thighs. As he continues his kissing, edging closer and closer to where I want him most, his soft hands glide up my body and cup my flushed chest. He rolls my nipples between his thumb and forefingers and I mewl in response. _

_Finally, he dives into me, his tongue lapping at the wetness that's collected there and reaching into me as far as it can go. A moan escapes my throat and my hands fly to his head, my nails digging into his scalp. My left heel digs into his lower back, slick with sweat, and I uncontrollably grind into his mouth. God, it feels so good._

_He takes my clit into his mouth, sucking on it hard and I gasp his name as I fall. "Oh, Peeta!"_

* * *

"Yeah?"

My eyes fly open. I'm on the couch in the living room; my legs sprawled out over Peeta's lap. Fuck. It was just a dream—but the sensations felt so real. The junction of my thighs is throbbing to prove it.

"Were you saying something?" Peeta asks again.

"Ummmmmmm, yeah," I lie. "I was just gonna say I like this show." I point towards the screen, where _Cupcake Wars_ is playing.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I put it on while we wait for dinner to finish baking." I look over to him, to find him smiling at me, his pale skin flushed with amusement.

He shifts his body on the couch and he begins to crawl between my legs. I watch him with curious eyes. "What were you dreaming about, Kat?" he asks, his voice laughing.

"Nothing," I mumble, blush taking over my cheeks.

His hands move to my sides. "You're lying." And then he starts tickling me. Tickling. Me. My shrill giggle cuts through the silence of the house and I thrash around, trying to move away from his hands. Peeta watches me with a goofy grin on his face, his eyes dancing. I'm laughing like a total girl, and snorting uncontrollably, and he's enjoying every second of it.

"Peeta, stop!" I finally gasp through the laughter.

He chuckles and finally relents. I give him a small punch in the shoulder as I try to get my breath back. "Jerk."

He barks out a laugh. Then, without warning, he lets his body collapse onto mine and squishes me into the couch. I wrap my legs around his and my arms around his back, not caring if I'm revealing my desire to hold onto him.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, nuzzling his face into my neck, his lips resting at the corner of my jaw.

His scent invades my nostrils, dill and cinnamon from the breads me must have baked earlier in class. There's no way in hell I'm going to let this moment end soon. "Never."

We stay like this, with the TV quietly running in the background, until the oven beeps at us. Then we get up and eat together.

Everything is back to normal.

Except me.

I'm in love with him irrevocably, and with each passing second, I want to tell him more and more.

* * *

**Hey guys! I know this chapter is coming out a little earlier than it normally does, but I wanted to get another one to you before Christmas! I hope you enjoyed both the flashback and the dream! I figured since this is rated M, you guys needed a little dirty stuff! ;) Thank you for all of the support-over 400 followers! That's awesome. I love you guys! Happy Holidays! And expect an update for ****_A Slow Burning Fire_**** tonight or tomorrow. Coffee and Classics, I'm still working on though! Sorry!**


	9. Chapter 9

Watching Peeta eat is basically porn. He enjoys every single bite, releasing a moan or mewl of approval. He chews with a grin on his face, but a grin that looks like he has a secret. His jaw twitches with each movement, causing me to clench my thighs together. Sweet baby Jesus. And what's even better, is that he's cooked it all himself. He's a fucking baker. That's the kind of man you keep around.

"You're staring."

His voice yanks me back to reality. "I guess I'm a little spacey today," I whisper, digging back into my helping spaghetti.

He smirks lopsidedly. "Obviously."

"Shove it."

He lets out a hearty chuckle that spikes my pulse before we continue the rest of our meal in comfortable silence; I keep my eyes glued to my plate. It's not until the dishes are washed, resting in the drying rack and we're snuggled on the couch that it's broken.

"I found the perfect space," he says, stretching out behind me as we lay on couch, utterly stuffed.

I turn around to face him, happiness running through my veins. "Peeta, that's amazing!" I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press my body against his in a hug.

When I pull away, he shines me his heart-stopping smile. "I'm pretty excited. Do you want to see it tomorrow?"

I nod vehemently. I can't believe he found a spot for his bakery. God, he's been dreaming about this for so long, it practically feels like my dream too. I bet he's going to paint it orange.

"It used to be a little restaurant, so it has the multiple ovens I need and the industrial sized mixers. It's so perfect, Kat. I can almost see it." He has that dreamy look in his eyes he gets whenever he talks about his bakery, and it makes my heart swell. He deserves this. He deserves to get everything he wants.

What did I do to deserve him? Nothing. But I'm not gonna push him away just because I didn't.

"When I bring you there, I'm gonna pay the deposit. And it will be real." His eyes suddenly brighten, blue like the ocean. "Nothing feels like it's real until you're with me, Katniss."

My heart beats faster—I'm pretty sure it's visible through my chest. "Me too. But it's real, Peeta. Your dream is coming true."

He leans in a little closer and licks his bottom lip. "I think it is."

* * *

Every once and a while he has these moments. He says it's like everything is shiny and in slow motion and he has no idea what's real or what's not. The doctor calls them episodes. They aren't dangerous or life-threatening; they are just a weird release of stress or happiness. He gets them at random times, and most of the time they are nothing.

But he's having one right now, and I can tell. He's gripping the back one of the chairs resting in the dining area of his future bakery. He just gave the owner of the building his down payment and by the look on his face, he's having a happy episode. His eyes are extraordinarily blue, like a cloudless sky, and glassy; I can see flush lighting up the pale skin of his chest—visible by his grey v-neck. His grin is so wide, his cheeks must be burning, but he doesn't care. His dream is coming true.

Suddenly, the chair topples over and he jumps into the air. When he lands, he begins to hop around, his legs kicking out and his arms flailing; his low laughter echoes through the empty space. Jesus, he's doing his embarrassingly terrible happy dance.

"Peeta, you're losing your shit," I snicker as I watch him karate chop the air in front of him.

He turns to me, his smile unwavering. "Hell yes I am. And it's fucking awesome!"

In a second, he sprints over to me and picks me up, twirling me around. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him until he finally stops—my head spins. When he sets me on my feet, I stumble into him, my head bumping his hard chest.

Suddenly, his arms wind around my waist and he squeezes my body to his. I tilt my head up and meet his gaze as he begins to rock us back in forth in a weird dance. His skin smells like honey and peppermint, with a hint of musk that's purely Peeta. He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, and my hands rise to grip his muscled biceps.

"Do you like it?" he asks. His voice is shaking slightly and he bites his lower lip. He only does that when he's really nervous. It must be important to him that I like this space as much as he does. Best friend support and whatnot.

"I love it," I tell him truthfully. The space may be extremely dirty, but everything is in great condition. It just needs a little love—and Peeta is the guy to do that. Peeta has always been good at taking care of things and bringing them back to life. I would know.

* * *

_"The food is here."_

_Peeta crawls back into bed and curls his body against mine. I grab his hand and wrap it around my stomach. I'm not hungry right now. I know Peeta will make me eat soon, but I don't want to. My stomach is empty. And so is everything else. _

_"And Gale called again."_

_"I don't want to talk to him," I say quickly. I don't know why, but I've been avoiding him since Prim's call three days ago. I just don't want to say the words out loud. My father is dead. I don't even think my lips can fully form them yet._

_His hand starts to move back and forth across my belly like he's soothing a stomach ache. It feels nice. "I told him you were fine, but you just wanted some alone time right now. I figure you need to tell him what's happening yourself. He was pissed, though. The man has some fire in him."_

_I nod my head, but ignore the edge in his tone. I don't really care if Gale's mad. I've got bigger things to deal with. _

_"I want you to eat something," he continues. He uses the hand on my stomach to turn me around so I'm facing him; he shifts his hand to my back, slipping it under the tattered fabric of the sweatshirt of his I'm wearing and resting it on my cold, bare skin. "Please, Kitty."_

_"Later," I mumble. _

_He gives me a slight nod of his head and pulls me into his arms again. His sweatpant-clad legs jimmy their way between mine and I collapse into his embrace. I don't care that I haven't showed in four days—I just need his comfort. I just need him to be here with me. _

_He squeezes me tighter and I feel his warm breath hit the back of my neck as he rests his chin on my shoulder._

_"I'm glad I have you," I whisper almost inaudibly—practically to myself. It's true, though. Peeta has been there for me since the day we met, and I know that I'm not the easiest person to be around. But he puts up with me. No. It's more than that. He cherishes me. And no one else has ever done that to me before. My father cherished me, but not in the same way. Peeta isn't obligated by family. He does it willingly and artfully. And I know I don't tell him what he means to me enough. Words have always failed me when it comes to Peeta. _

_"I'm glad I have you, too. I wish I had you when I lost everyone," he whispers back to me. And my heart clenches again. _

_Peeta never talks about his family. Like, ever. Sometimes he gets in a mood and spends the entire day in his room sketching pictures of the things he can remember about them. And once or twice I've joined him and laid beside him, reading and watching. But he doesn't really say anything unless I ask specific questions—which I don't. Because I know how much it pains him to talk about it. _

_"I cried for days, just like you. Chaff brought me food, but that was basically all he did. I barely understood what was going on. I didn't understand that I would never see them again. I just wanted my dad, and no matter how many times I called for him, he never came." He pulls away from my neck and looks me in the eye. His hand brushes away the hair that's escaped from my greasy braid. "But you have to come out of it eventually. I know that you feel like you'll never be able to breathe normally ever again. I know that you ache all over and eating feels meaningless. But you have to move on, Kitty."_

_"I don't want to." _

_"I know you don't."_

_"I miss him already," I murmur, my throat closing up again. It's been four days, but it feels like it's been seven years. I was planning to see him in a couple of weeks. And now I'll never see him smile again._

_Peeta kisses my forehead, his soft lips dancing over my skin. "I know you do. But it's time to get out of bed and face the world. Prim wants to talk to you, and the funeral is in a couple days."_

_He's right. I can't sulk forever, no matter how good that sounds. I need to be strong for Prim and my mother. And for Peeta. I know it hurts him to see me like this. Just like it hurts me when I see him upset._

_"I'll eat," I say, appeasing him. His face breaks out in a wide grin that causes my stomach to fill with butterflies. Huh. That's never happened to me before. _

_"Thank you. And maybe you could call Gale?"_

_I shake my head. I just want it to be us for a while. Peeta gives me a soft smile then gets up to get the pizza he set on my TV. _

_When he climbs back into bed, he pulls me up into a sitting position, with his hand around my waist, and we lean back against my headboard. He sets the open box on our laps and he forces a piece of Hawaiian into my hand. The scent of it alone is enough to make my stomach roll, but I eat it anyway. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning when Peeta forced me to eat some chicken noodle soup—the same recipe he taught me when we first met. And it did help a little. _

_I nibble on my slice and I see Peeta watching me out of the corner of my eye. And I instantly feel guilty. Peeta has probably been going crazy with worry these last few days. He's watched me slowly deteriorate. But I'll make it up to him somehow. I'll try to._

_Soon enough, without me even realizing it, I've finished my third slice. I look away from the TV, playing old reruns of Tom & Jerry, and over to Peeta. He's smiling at me. And for the first time in what feels like a long time, I smile back. _

_Things could be okay again—I can't feel the possibility humming in my veins. If Peeta doesn't leave me, I know that I can handle it. I can start to heal._

_He presses a kiss to my cheek and lean into his lips, making him linger. _

_I don't know why, but the butterflies return._

_But I know it's not from hunger._

* * *

"Really?" he asks again.

I simply nod my head. Of course I do. It has Peeta written all over it. It's going to be an amazing bakery run by an amazing man.

He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, and I lean into it, just like I did all those years ago. Except now I know why the butterflies are there, and I feel stupid for only fully realizing it a few months ago.

"Do you want fondue tonight?" I ask when he finally pulls his lips away from me. It's basically the only dish I know how to make that doesn't involve hunting something in the forest, considering all I do is melt cheese in milk. But it's still the most delicious thing on this planet. "You can bake some of your artisan bread for dipping."

He grins down at me. "Sounds good."

* * *

I'm at work a few days later when Finnick plows into my office, his eyes bright and full of excitement.

"I know it!"

I set my cheese bun down on my desk and close my book, giving him my full attention.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," I reply, leaning back in my chair and putting my feet up.

He crosses my office and plops himself into the chair on the other side of the desk. He's been avoiding me a little lately since I told him I didn't want to continue seeing him, so I'm surprised that he's here at all. But I don't mind. I've missed him a little. His humor lights up work when the days drag.

"Well, obviously not. That's why I'm here telling you." He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly—stretching the fabric of his sky blue button up. "It's Peeta."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I think I'm even more confused now." The sentence drags out of my mouth, as my mind tries to fathom what he knows about Peeta.

"He's the guy. The guy you can't get over. It's your roommate—your best friend."

Before I can say anything, his face lights up in a grin, and he knows he's right. Dammit. My face must have given it away.

"Don't worry, Katniss. I'm not gonna tell him or anything, jeez," he starts, leaning back in his chair too. "I just came to the realization and I wanted you to know that I know. And it's understandable that you would fall for him. I mean, you don't talk about your past, but I know it hasn't been a piece of cake, and he has been there for you for years." He nibbles on his lower lip, his face growing serious. "There are no hard feelings here; I don't want to be mad at you for not reciprocating my feelings."

A huge sigh escapes from my mouth, and I feel some tension leaving my shoulders. "Good."

He smiles. "So, that song you're writing? The one you are constantly humming under your breath—changing the melody?" I nod my head, indicating he should continue. "It's for him?"

I nod again. "Yeah, I want to tell him how I feel. And I thought I'd do it with music."

He smiles, his white teeth popping out from behind his deep red lips. "I think I can help."

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry this chapter was so late coming out! Life always seems to get in the way. Haha! But I hope you all enjoyed it. And, I want to thank ****_HGRomance_**** for giving me the idea to have Katniss write Peeta a song to tell him how she feels. I had another scene written out for the reveal, but I wasn't quite sure if I liked it. But as soon at I got that PM, I knew that was what I wanted to do. THANK YOU SO MUCH. And, you shouldn't expect ****_too_**** long of a wait for the next chapter, which I might add, is the chapter you've all been waiting for. So stay tuned!**


	10. Chapter 10

Today is the day. I can feel it as soon as I wake up, hours before I normally do—considering it's a Saturday. It's been exactly 73 days since our night together, and I just can't wait any longer. I need him to know.

I hear Peeta's light snores through my open door as he sleeps in the room across from mine, and I feel the need even more. I don't want to hear his distant breathing anymore; I want to hear it only a few inches from me. I want to wake up to his face and fall asleep to it. I want to feel his hands roam my body and his lips against mine.

I leap out of bed and run across the hall. Even though he wakes up early, even on the weekends, it's still too early for him to be up too. I bounce into his room and jump onto his bed, like a kid does to his parents on Christmas morning. He wakes up instantly, jerking alive from his still position lying on his back.

I smirk at the confused look he wears on his face. I can't remember the last time I woke up before him when I didn't have to—and he probably doesn't either.

"Morning," I whisper.

"Good morning," he replies politely, yawning loudly. He glances at the clock on his night table. "Why are you up so early?"

I shrug my shoulders. He pulls his covers down slightly, and I slip under them and snuggle against his firm body. Hopefully this will be the last time we do this as only friends. Hopefully everything will change. For the better.

"Soooooooo," I say, dragging out my feelings, nervous tension filling my stomach.

"Yeah?" Peeta questions through another yawn as he lifts his right hand to scratch his stubbly jaw.

"I have a song I want to play for you today."

He turns his face to me, and the sleep seems to vanish from his body; he grins at me, his blue eyes glittering with anticipation. "Really?"

I nod, unable to speak as the saliva evaporates from my mouth; he looks so beautiful—all disheveled and excited. God, I love him.

He turns his gaze away from me, back to the ceiling, and I lick my dry lips. "Jeez, it seems like forever ago that I first saw you sing. Do you remember it?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "You were so pissed that I went to see when you told me specifically not to."

I grin, recalling it. I was pretty furious.

* * *

_I take a deep breath, nervous panic running though my veins. What if I suck? What if I just fail and my voice cracks and my guitar strings break and I have a stroke right on stage? I've done this ten times before, but each time I perform, my brain runs wild with all the possible things that could go wrong. But I always get through it. _

_I reach into my back pocket and pull out the crumpled, weathered piece of paper I always put there each time I have a show. I unfold the note carefully, knowing that someday soon I will have to tape it so it stays together. I read it for what must the billionth time, but it still causes the butterflies to fade:_

Katniss,

You can do this. Keep kicking ass and be who you want to be. I will always be here for you. And please, tell your mother to stop buying garlic in bulk. My breath always smells like it now.

I love you, Hunter. Go get 'em.

Love, Dad

_"Katniss?"_

_I quickly fold the note back up and turn towards the voice, a smile on my lips. I nod at Seneca, the stage manager, in greeting. He runs his fingers along his weirdly shaped beard, his usual sneaky smile on his face._

_"You're up," he says, winks, and then leaves, the curtain swishing behind him. _

_A small chuckle escapes from my lips. My Dad's letter always gets me ready to perform. I pick up my guitar from where it rests on the small table with a large vanity mirror, and grab the stool next to it. I take three deep breaths, then throw the curtain aside and make my way to the small stage. _

_The bar is actually pretty crowded tonight, but I ignore the many faces and set the stool down at the front of the stage, the microphone already set to my height. I sit down on the wooden seat and flash a half-smile at the crowd._

_"My name is Katniss Everdeen, and this song is called 'The Hanging Tree,'" I whisper into the microphone, the feedback squeaking slightly. And then I sing._

_My Dad and I wrote this song years ago, once when we were hiking though the woods. I never really understood why it came to his head or mine, considering the lyrics aren't exactly happy, but it just flowed. And singing this song at my shows has just become second nature. It's a part of me. _

_When I finish, I hear applause ring out and try to give the audience my biggest smile, but I know it's forced. I quickly transition to the next song, and soon enough my five song set is over and I'm stepping back behind the torn crimson curtain. _

_I put my guitar in its case before I escape from backstage and head to the bar for a drink. After I perform, I like to get shitfaced. It's kind of my ritual. Thresh, the bartender, sees me coming and begins to pour me a draft of my usual. I sit down on one of the brown leather stools that rest in front of the scratched oak bar and start to relax. _

_"Good set tonight," Thresh compliments as he slides me my pint. His soft brown eyes twinkle as he runs his left hand over his shaved head._

_I lift the glass to my lips and drain half of it before speaking, "Thanks."_

_He nods before leaving me, heading to the other side of the bar to get drinks for the other patrons. And I slip into my daydreams._

_"Your voice is really beautiful."_

_A deep, familiar timber pulls me away from my thoughts and my eyes fly away from the glass I hold in my hands. Peeta flops down onto the stool next to me. A tight leather jacket hugs his toned biceps and the deep blue shirt he wears underneath it glides over his broad chest. Wow. I had no idea my "teacher" could dress up like a bad boy. Where's his apron?_

_I shake my head, dismissing those thoughts as anger fills my being. "I told you not to come!" I practically shout at him. "You should have never eavesdropped on my phone conversation with my sister and I didn't want you to hear me sing!"_

_Surprising me, he laughs. I narrow my eyes at him, ready to tear him a new one, when he speaks, "Katniss, I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it." He must see the anger in my eyes because I watch his gaze soften even more than it normally is; it causes me to soften a little bit too. "Look, as much as you try to deny it, we've kinda become friends since you started my class two months ago. And as your friend, I wanted to see you perform." He leans closer to me, his arm landing on the back of my stool. "And I didn't mean to hear your convo with Prim—it was just a happy accident." _

_I turn away from his sapphire eyes and down the rest of my drink. I nod towards Thresh, signaling the desire for another; he quickly complies._

_Suddenly, I feel a tug on my scalp and turn my eyes away from my second drink and down. I find Peeta's strong, rough fingers touching the end of braid, sliding effortlessly through the soft, choppy strands. My chest suddenly aches as my heart slams against my diaphragm. What is he doing? Wha—wha—why? Why is he touching me? What the hell is happening to me?!_

_"I'm sorry if I made you upset, Katniss—I really am," he says, removing his hand from my hair. _

_Was I upset? I shake my head, trying to remove the haze. Oh yeah! I am! He came here when I told him not to! Fury files into my veins again. "I didn't want you here!"_

_"Why?" he asks. "I want to be here. To support you. That's what friends do, right?"_

_I shrug my shoulders. I've never really had a friend before—except my father and Prim. I grew up in the country, homeschooled by my mother. And I don't really like people in general. They annoy me. I shake my head and take another gulp of my beer before addressing Peeta again. "Where are you from—Disneyland? You seem to have a very positive outlook on everything from friends to food." The malice and anger has started to fade, replaced with annoyed fascination. _

_Now he shrugs his shoulders. "I've been through more shit than you'd think," he whispers almost inaudibly. Guilt infiltrates me as I watch him solemnly order a 7&7 from Thresh. "But," he continues, "I feel like things can be good again, no matter how bad our losses."_

_Peeta thanks Thresh as he takes the first sip of his drink, then he turns to me. His eyes meet mine as the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile. "You really were amazing up there. You seemed so comfortable—like a fish in water—very dissimilar to what you look like in the kitchen." His half-smile turns into a grin. "So can we be friends now?"_

_I pull my gaze away from him and back to the wood of the bar. I nod my head. "Alright."_

* * *

"But you forgave me pretty easily," Peeta says, as he takes another deep breath.

"Well you were so pathetic, I had to throw you a bone," I lie, wrapping my arm around his ribcage.

He laughs, loud and throaty. "You wish, Everdeen." He coughs once and then sits up; my hands fall away from his body. He turns his gaze down to me. "So when do you want to sing to me?"

My stomach fills with nervous butterflies. "Later."

* * *

I watch the clock tick by for the rest of the day, both delaying and anticipating the event. Peeta does laundry, sketches, practices potential recipes for the bakery, reads—and I watch him do it all. I follow him like Casper the friendly stalker ghost. But he doesn't say anything. He just smiles at me every once in a while—which always spikes my pulse—then goes back to what he's doing.

When the clock hits seven, I text Finn to make sure he's holding up his part of the plan, then join Peeta in the living room as he watches TV. I take the remote from the cushion next to him and turn off the screen. Peeta looks up and me expectantly and I point to the guitar he bought for me in the corner of the room awkwardly; he smiles and nods his head.

I walk over to it, wiping my sweaty palms on the front of my torn jeans. Once the strap is thrown over my shoulder, I move back to him and sit on the footrest that resides in front of him.

I nibble on my bottom lip. "I wrote this for you," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

His face breaks out in a wide smile. "Thank you."

"Listen closely to the lyrics."

He nods, still smiling.

My stomach flips. This is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for—and sometimes even dreading. But I have to say it. When the words leave my mouth, who knows what will happen. But if I don't say anything, I will slowly rot from within. I need to take the plunge. I need to risk it.

So I take a deep breath, look down at my guitar, and start.

_Haven't you heard?_

_I'm stuck on a verse_

_I'm stuck on a boy who fills me with joy_

_I knew I was wrong to jump straight on into this picture so pretty_

_But he is so pretty to me_

My voice is clear and strong. It's time to finally say it. No more fear.

_And he doesn't know just how far I would go_

_Just to kiss him_

_He doesn't know how I pine_

My eyes fly away from my fingers and search for his blue eyes. I see his smile start to fade, his mouth falling slack and his eyes widening. "Katniss, what are you saying?" his voice is shaky, and I want so badly to stop and kiss him. But I ignore him, needing to sing the chorus and finish the song.

_So I make whirlpools_

_And watch him sparkle_

_'Cause we'd make love, make magic_

Peeta's eyes are wide; he looks startled.

_And haven't you heard?_

_I've fallen head first_

_And I love him so_

_We're two in a row_

_Just look in his eyes, they're blue as the skies_

_A picture so pretty, but he is so pretty to me_

Peeta's face is completely frozen and devoid of emotion. Unable to look him anymore, I cast my eyes to the floor and finish.

_So I make whirlpools_

_And watch him sparkle_

_'Cause we'd make love, make magic_

_But I just couldn't tell him_

_'Bout how love it takes you_

_'Cause words don't make what I'd make with him_

_Haven't you heard?_

_I'm stuck on a verse_

_I'm stuck on a boy who fills me with joy_

_I knew I was wrong to jump straight on into this picture so pretty_

_But he is so pretty to me_

With one final strum, I finish the song and look up at him. "I—I'm in love with you, Peeta."

* * *

**GAH! SHE SAID IT! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I'm sorry it took so long to get out. But here it is. The song Katniss sings is "Your Song" by Kate Walsh. If you've never heard it, you are missing out! It's probably one of my favorites. Thanks again to HGRomance for giving me the idea to have Katniss write Peeta a song! I know that this is pretty cliffhanger-y, but don't worry, I'll have a chapter out soon. It won't take a month again, I swear. **


	11. Chapter 11

I have no idea what he's thinking. My eyebrows furrow as I try to scrutinize his expression, but I've got nothing.

His face is completely blank.

I set my guitar down next to my feet, and lean forward, cupping his face in my calloused hands. "Look, I understand that it's a lot to process, and it probably came out of nowhere for you. So I'm giving you an out—you don't have to respond right now. Just think about it, and tell me what you're thinking in the next day or two. I'll wait for you."

I drop my hands and stand up. "I'm going to _The Hob_ with Finnick, okay? I'll be home in a few hours."

I glance at Peeta over my shoulder one more time before I close the door and see that he hasn't moved. Not one inch. That can't be good.

By the time I get to _The Hob_ I've basically bitten off my nails entirely_. _Did I just make a mistake? His face was completely dead. He's probably thinking of the best way to let me down; my stomach churns violently at the thought.

I practically sprint into the bar, where I see Finnick sitting. I grab the drink he has in his hand, halfway to his mouth, and chug it. Yuck. I hate vodka.

"I was drinking that," he says, glancing at his empty glass as I set it on bar.

"But I needed it more." I plop myself down onto the barstool next to him and wave at the bartender impatiently.

Finnick smiles at me, his straight teeth looking menacing. "Are you gonna tell me? Come on, Katniss, I want to hear how it went! That was my part of the deal after I helped you finish the song: be here for drunken support."

I shake my head. "Are you sure you wanna hear about it?" I ask hesitantly. I mean, it wasn't long ago he told me that he had feelings for me and I rebuffed him. Does he really want details about how I told someone else I loved them?

Now it's his turn to shake his head. "No, I do. You're my friend, no matter what, and I want to hear what happened."

The bartender finally comes up to me and I order four shots of tequila. Not to share. Then I turn my body towards Finnick. "I sang him the song."

His eyes glitter with anticipation. "And?" he prods.

"I'm letting him get adjusted the idea," I say as the shots are placed in front of me; I quickly toss them all back before continuing. "I kind of sprung it on him, and I don't want him to feel pressured to respond—good or bad. We've been friends for so long…"

Finnick nods understandingly, then a loudly chuckle escapes his throat. Then another. Then he's laughing uncontrollably, covering his mouth with his large hands to quiet himself.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Are you high?"

He shakes his head, his laughter dying down. "I'm sorry," he says when he finally stops. "I just—of course that's how you did it, Katniss. You tell him you love him and then you sprint out the door so fast—you realize you don't have a coat, right? And it's snowing outside?"

I look down at myself and find out that it's true. I'm still wearing the ratty t-shirt I fell asleep in last night.

Finnick, being the good friend that he is, begins to distract me from the potential doom that could be stirring in the most successful and basically only friendship I've ever had. He talks about easy, nonconsequential topics, and continues to try to get me to laugh, and before I know it, three hours have passed. And I'm actually starting to feel better. Until I see him.

Peeta stands in the doorway, his hands on his hips, his eyes scanning the bar. He's here. My heartbeat flies at the sight of him in his flannel plaid shirt and his deep blue jeans. He's here. Finally, his eyes land on me at the bar and he quickly makes a b-line in my direction. He's here.

"What are you doing here, Katniss?" he growls. "You can't just leave in the middle of a pretty serious conversation."

Suddenly, unexplainably, I'm angry. "Don't tell me what to do."

"We're going home," he says, his voice in control, but seething. But why? Why the hell is he angry? Out of all the emotions he could feel after I tell him I love him, he's angry? That doesn't even make any sense.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I tell him, leaving him behind. But he doesn't stay.

Peeta follows me.

I turn around, glaring at him. "Peeta, you realize this is a girl's bathroom right?" I sneer at him. "Or did you miss the triangle shaped person on the door?" But he just locks the door behind him and turns, ignoring me.

"Don't have sex with him," he snarls, running his left hand through his gorgeous curls, his blue eyes penetrating mine.

Shock freezes my body. "What?"

His eyes narrow. "You heard me. Don't sleep with Finnick."

Anger rips through me, and I stomp towards him; when his face is a few inches away from mine, I start yelling. "Are you fucking kidding me?! After everything I just told you, you think I'm going to screw him?" Steam is practically coming out of my ears. "You know what? Maybe I should. You're not my brother or my father and you are definitely not my boyfriend."

"Don't. Fuck. Him." He enunciates every word, his jaw clenched and looking utterly delectable.

"Don't. Tell. Me. What. To. Do," I sneer back.

Suddenly, he grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me against the wall. I open my mouth, ready to scream at him, when he swoops down and kisses me. Hard. His lips smash against mine, unrelenting, and I immediately respond, grabbing his face and holding it to mine. I've been dreaming of this kiss ever since the night we shared; not a consoling kiss, like we had the night of our fight, but a knee-weakening kiss that makes me see stars and question every other kiss I've ever had in my entire life. Now I finally have it. And I don't ever want it to end. His tongue dives into my mouth, somersaulting with mine, and oblivion is upon me once again.

All too soon, he rips his lips off mine. "He's not good enough for you, Katniss. When will you realize that all these fucking guys aren't good enough?" His voice is calm, like he didn't just kiss me, sober, and change the dynamic of our entire relationship. My hands fall to my sides, as shock ruptures my body. What just happened? What is he saying exactly? Does he want to be with me too?

His hands leave my shoulders, running, lingering down my body as they move to my thighs, where he starts to unzip my jeans slowly.

"Then who is?" I pant, my breath gone. I can't seem to move my limbs. What the hell is he doing?

He smiles at me and tugs at my jeans until they hit the floor; I hear the sound of his zipper lowering. He picks me up one-handed and I kick my jeans off before I wrap my legs around him—my body moving on its own accord. Before I even register what we're doing, he pushes my underwear aside and thrusts his flesh into me. I gasp at the sensation of being filled by him again; it makes me feel so complete.

But he doesn't move. He holds me against the wall—completely still. His blue eyes bleed into mine as his mouth falls open and a soft moan escapes.

"What are you doing?" I pant, mind-willing him to pound into me, again and again until I'm shouting his name. I don't even care that we're in a bar bathroom.

"Don't sleep with him, Katniss."

I roll my eyes, ignoring the beating of my heart in my ears. "What the fuck are you going on about? I'm not going to sleep with Finnick. And, that's physically impossible right now, considering you're inside me." He narrows his eyes, so I narrow mine too. "Why do you even care?"

He moves out of me slowly, almost entirely, then sharply thrusts into me; I moan. God, he feels good. I'm aching and trembling to be with him again.

His blue eyes are so close to mine, and he's looking at me that way. The way he looked at me all those months ago during our first time: like I'm the most beautiful person in the world. "Why do I care? Why do you think?"

"I don't know," I mumble. He agreed when I said we should just stay friends. Was he lying too?

He brings the hand not holding me up and rests it on my face, his thumb running along my lower lip. "I want you, Katniss. Every single second of the day. Can't you tell?"

My breath hitches. Well, fuck no I couldn't tell. He hasn't changed the way he's treated me since we sleep together—how was I supposed to know?

I can't seem to give in right away like I want to. To gush and fall and tell him I'll never leave him. "I don't want to be just a hole for you to fill while you get over Madge," I whisper, sadness infiltrating my being.

We both can't deny that the sex was fantastic all those months ago. But he had just been dumped by the girl he was in love with and I…don't want to be the rebound. I'm in love with him, and I want him to want me for more than just a good lay. I want this to be real for him.

His face morphs into sadness, breaking before my eyes. "You should know I don't see you like that—I could never see you like that. You're my best friend." He leans forward and presses his forehead against mine. "Katniss, I've felt more than friendship for you for as long as I can remember. Why do you think I kissed you in the first place that night that lead to the sex? Katniss, I'm in lo—"

I clamp my hand over his mouth, not ready to hear the words yet. Later. I want to hear them later when I know he's not just saying it to get some in a bathroom. "Don't say it. Not yet. Just show me."

He presses his lips to mine, gently, lovingly, and begins to move. And I fall even harder for him. Flush immediately takes over my body, and I arch my back, biting my lip. Oh god, it feels so good to be with him again. He moves his face to my neck, sucking and licking at my olive skin as his hips collide with mine, over and over and over. I moan quietly at the sensation as I dig my heels into his delicious backside, desperate to have him inside me as deep as possible.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," he moans into the crook of my head. His hand moves from my hip and slips up my shirt until he reaches my bra. His fingers begin to tease my nipple through the sheer fabric, and I wiggle against him as the pressure goes straight to my groin and I squeeze him inside of me; he groans in response, vibrating my entire being.

I move my hands from his hair to his shoulders to his chest. I need to feel his warm skin. I frantically pop open the buttons of his shirt, eager to touch him. After what feels like centuries, it falls open and I run my hands up and down the chiseled muscles; my nails pinch into the skin of his pecs. He moves his face from my neck and I instantly attack his mouth with my tongue. I want to taste every inch of it.

Suddenly, the door starts to shutter next to us, and Peeta stops mid-thrust. "Hurry up in there!" a high-pitched voice squeals from the other side. Fuck. We're in a bathroom. Peeta pulls himself out of me, sets me back on my feet and quickly zips up his jeans as he runs to the middle of the bathroom to snatch my jeans off the dirty, green tiled floor; he tosses them to me and I quickly climb into them.

When I'm finished buttoning up my pants, I look up to see Peeta finish fastening the top button of his flannel. "We need to get home and talk," he says, his face beet-red from embarrassment. But there's a happy smile on his face and I know I'm wearing the same one.

I nod, still smiling, and the two of us duck out of the bathroom, ignoring the shocked gasps and pointed looks from the prissy bimbo waiting outside the door.

Peeta's arm wraps around my waist, fitting there like a glove, and I give Finnick a small wave as we hurry out of the exit. He grins manically as his arms shoot up in the air in victory, as if signaling a touchdown.

Peeta speeds home, his hand in mine, and practically drags me up the front steps and through the unlocked door. As soon as he wheels around in the living room, I attack him, my lips eager to meet his again. He kisses me back with equal gusto, but pulls away soon after.

"When I said we needed to talk, I really did mean talk," he pants, his hot breath skimming my face.

I nod, agreeing, though I'd rather get lost in the sheets with him. He intertwines his fingers with mine and brings them to his mouth. Slowly and delicately, he presses his lips to each one of my fingers, his eyes glittering at me. Then he pulls me over to the couch and we take a seat on opposite ends.

We sit in silence for several moments before he breaks it with one simple word, "When?"

I cringe, wishing he would have asked a different question. "I don't know," I tell him truthfully.

"How could you not know?" he asks, confusion filling his beautiful face.

"I don't know when I fell in love with you, Peeta," I say, collapsing back onto the arm of the couch. "I probably always have." I pick at the cushion, avoiding his eyes.

"When did you realize it, Kitty?"

I close my eyes, trying to ignore the desperation in his tone. "After we slept together," I finally whisper.

After what seems like a thousand years, I feel the soft pads of his fingers on my cheek. "Look at me Katniss," he whispers. But I bite my lip, shaking my head. "Please."

And I break, my eyes opening automatically at his consoling voice. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asks, his eyes staring into mine, full of wonder and bewilderment.

"Why didn't you?!" I almost shout back. "If you've had feelings for me all this time, why didn't you ever say anything?"

He pulls back slightly, and his gaze falls down to my lips. He moves in to kiss me, but this time I pull away. Now I want answers.

He sits back down on the couch, and pulls my folded legs out so they stretch across his lap. "I've wanted to tell you how I've felt every day for last five years." He runs his right hand up and down my calf, as his eyes fall to my face. "Once I even had it all planned out."

I start, surprise taking over. "When?"

His eyes fill with sadness, and I feel the need to grab his face and pull him on top of me. But I don't. He sighs, and intertwines his fingers with mine again before he answers, "The night you met Gale."

* * *

_I hold a bottle of tequila in one hand and compare it to the bottle of whiskey I have in the other. Peeta sent me out on this errand to get some alcohol while he finished making dinner, but he never said what kind. Does he want to get drunk? I don't know. He was a little weird when I left his apartment to do this—all twitchy and red-faced. Maybe he's having an allergic reaction again. I told him his doctor wasn't kidding about the almonds, but he loves them too much and refuses to stop putting almond powder in his bread. _

_I decide on a sauvignon blanc and a small bottle of absinthe—just in case. I exit the cluttered aisle and head to the counter, my goods in one hand and my wallet in the other. The guy looks up and away from his crossword; his beady mud-colored eyes rake over my body and I have to fight the urge to slap him across the face. _

_He rings me up, barely paying attention to what he's doing, but instead staring at my chest. Fuck. Well that's what I get for wearing a shirt that shows a silver of cleavage—which I normally don't. My fists clench at my side, ready to swing. _

_"Hey, Dickhead, could you be less obvious?" a deep male voice calls behind me, causing me to turn around. But the man doesn't acknowledge me—he continues to stare daggers at the employee. "Turn your eyes back to the register and do your fucking job."_

_The cashier cowers and moves his eyes back to the task, taking the bill I hand to him and placing it in the drawer. After the clerk bags the alcohol and slides it across the counter to me, the man who unnecessarily saved me finally looks at me. _

_His grey eyes meet mine and I feel my heart beat faster in my chest. His messy brown hair sticks out all over his head, making him look like a guy that just rolled out of bed. No. Not a guy—a model. He looks like a scruffy model that just rolled out of bed—with broad shoulders, a gorgeously crooked smirk and a straight nose. _

_"I could have handled that by myself," I tell him, ignoring the nagging feeling that I should thank him—and the desire to attack his soft-looking, scarlet lips with my own. But I'm not a damsel. I don't need a random knight to save me._

_ The stranger's smile fades slightly and he throws a ten dollar bill on the counter; he grabs his six pack the clerk just rang up, not bothering to wait for the scumbag to catch up. He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes, an action so very similar to what I've done my entire life._

_"Yeah, I don't care," he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose with his large hand. And then he moves past me, pushes open the metal door and exits the building. _

_And I'm left reeling. What the hell was that exactly? I quickly dart after him, a slur of curse words on the tip of my tongue. _

_"Hey!" I scream as I watch him sling his right leg over a slightly beat-up red crotch rocket. "What the fuck are you doing?"_

_The stranger exhales and crosses his arms over his chest, causing his green shirt to stretch tighter over his abs, revealing the toned muscles underneath. "I'm leaving, obviously." I glare at him, and he exhales again before continuing, "Look, the guy was a pig and I called him on it. Plus, it looked like you were about the slug him and I wanted to save you a trip to jail."_

_"Why?" I ask, my annoyance at this guy increasing more and more by the second. "You don't even fucking know me."_

_His eyes flame suddenly. "So what? He's a prick and I'm gonna apologize to you or anyone else," he shouts. _

_"Wow, you're an asshole," I comment, startled by the nerve of this guy. What a weirdo. _

_"And you're a self-righteous bitch."_

_I flash him my middle finger and turn around, marching off in the opposite direction—away from him and towards Peeta's place. I hear the sound of his motorcycle rumbling to life, but it only make me walk faster. What a douchebag! He…well, he helped me out, but he was very douche-y afterwards!_

_"Can I give you a ride?" The guy is suddenly beside me, only a few feet from where I am on the sidewalk, his bike chugging slowly._

_"Fuck no," I sneer at him, picking up my pace. But he doesn't drive off._

_"I'm gonna see you home then," he says, his tone just as cold as mine. God, why won't this fucker leave me alone?_

_So that's what he does. He rides along side me, not saying a word, the three blocks to Peeta's apartment. When I finally stop in front of the blue wooden building, I turn to him, ready to shout again, when he holds up his hand to silence me._

_"Can I call you?" he asks, turning off his engine. _

_I huff out a shocked breath and tug at the end of my braid. "Seriously?" I ask, incredulous. "You call me a bitch and then you want to get my phone number? You don't even know my name."_

_He shrugs his shoulders like he's never had a care in the world. "I guess I just like your fire."_

_I bite my lip, suppressing a nod. Despite the weird, dick-like things he's done in the span of the five minutes I've known him, I kinda like him. He's….different. _

_Before I even tell him yes, he throws a pen in my direction. Fortunately, my hunter reflexes kick in and I'm able to catch it without looking like a fool. I walk towards him, closing the gap between us and write my number on the back of the hand he has wrapped around his clutch. Shaking my head, half-surprised and half-disgusted with myself, I step away from him after I finish; I place the pen into his other hand. _

_But before I step away entirely, his hand darts out to grab me. And suddenly, his lips are on mine. They soft and warm, just like I thought they would be, but the kiss is hard and rough; without thinking, I eagerly return his kiss. I don't know how long it lasts, time seems to melt away, but what feels like too soon, I pull away. _

_"I'm Gale, by the way," he says, licking his lips. _

_"Katniss."_

_He smirks crookedly, and then starts up his engine and takes off without another word. Dazed, I walk up the stairs until I get to the third floor and Peeta's front door. I knock once before I open it, knowing it's unlocked for me. _

_Peeta sits at his small kitchen table, lit with two large candles. He stands up as I enter, a nervous smile on his lips. He's changed since I left; he now wears a dark blue button up I've never seen before and a pair of black jeans. _

_"You look nice," I tell him._

_He nods at me, not noticing that my body is still humming with energy. He moves across the room in a few steps and wraps his arms around me, startling me; his left hand rests on the back of my neck, his fingers caressing my hairline. Huh. He's never done that before. And the actions feels…intimate. _

_When we pull away, I look up at him, still in his arms. He smiles at me and opens his mouth to speak. "Katniss, I—"_

_"I met someone," I cut him off, butterflies taking over. "I'm sorry for cutting you off, but it just was so weird, that I had to tell you about it."_

_Peeta unwinds himself from me, but doesn't look away. He flops down into the chair he was previously occupying. "When?" he asks, his voice no longer happy, but worrisome. I frown. Maybe I shouldn't have stopped whatever he had to say._

_"Like ten minutes ago, at the liquor store." I smile, remembering the way Gale's lips melded with mine. "He's kind of a jerk, but in a good way."_

_Peeta laughs, harsh and unamused. "Of course he is," he mumbles so quietly I almost don't hear him._

_"What does that mean?" I inquire, heat in my tone. I don't like what he seems to be insinuating. _

_He stands up again and begins to gather the uneaten food from the table. "Nothing, Kat," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. He looks at me again, his face blank. "It's just—he would be."_

_And then he leaves the room, heading into the kitchen and forgetting the special dinner he made for the two of us._

* * *

"Peeta," I whisper and pull his face down to mine. This conversation is officially over for now. I just need him.

His lips meet mine and I feel whole. The fingers of his right hand run along my jaw as my hands weave into his messy mop. We kiss for what feels like hours, but I know in reality it must only be about five minutes.

"Let's go to bed," he whispers when he finally breaks away. And a smirk creeps up my face.

"Now you're talking," I moan, and turn my head to attack his neck.

He chuckles and pulls away, smiling at me. "No, I mean literally sleep." My eyebrows furrow and I fall back down to the couch rebuffed. He continues, "We need to talk more about everything before…that happens."

"You didn't feel that way in the bathroom," I point out, my hands dragging down the sides of his neck; he shivers in response.

"I know, but I shouldn't have done that. I got caught up in the moment."

He leans down and presses another kiss to my lips before he climbs off the couch, pulling me up with him. Hand in hand, we walk to my bedroom and slip inside. We throw off our clothes until I'm just in my ratty t-shirt and underwear and he's in his black boxers. Then we slip into bed and immediately cling to each other.

His arms slide under my t-shirt and rest on my warm skin as he presses his lips to my forehead in an intimate, lingering kissing.

"We'll talk more tomorrow," Peeta says, but I don't respond.

I've already slipped into a peaceful sleep next to the man I love.

* * *

**Hey all! Hope that was everything you imagined it to be! There is still a lot of stuff they need to discuss and you will get that in the next few chapters, with a little bit of sexy stuff because I know how much you all love that! ;) Also, there will be more explanation of Peeta's reaction****_—_****I mean, the guy is pretty insecure when it comes to Katniss's feelings for him. And he has every right to be. Thank you all for your support!**


	12. Chapter 12

When I wake up the next morning and roll over to find Peeta still sleeping next to me, I don't think I've ever felt happier in my life. He's snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling evenly, his hair messy. I shift closer to him, wrapping myself around his body and begin kissing his chest, waking him up.

"Good morning," I tell him when his eyes flutter open and his gaze falls on me. His arms immediately wrap around me and he rolls us over so he's on top.

"Please say it again," he whispers, his eyes deep blue and uncertain.

"Good morning?" I question, but as soon as I finish my sentence, I know what he really wants. I move my hands up his arms, to his shoulders and clasp his beautiful face. "I'm in love with you."

He takes a shuttering breath and his whole body shivers against mine. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that."

And then he's kissing me, his soft lips anxious and loving against mine. I weave my fingers into his hair and hold him against me, never wanting to let go.

"I love you, Katniss," he says, suddenly pulling away. "For whatever reason, you wouldn't let me say it last night, but I do. God, I love you."

Okay, I lied before. _This_ is the happiest I've ever felt in my life.

I feel myself wearing what must look like the most ridiculous smile on my face, but I can't help it. He loves me back. He grins at me; his hand begins to run along the edges of my face, his touch unbelievably gentle, as he leans down to kiss me again.

He kisses me slow, taking his time, his lips discovering mine for what feels like the first time. And it basically is. All of our other kisses have been rushed, in the heat of passion or in consolidation. But not now. His lips tease and tug and lock with mine over and over and over again, and my head feels lighter with each passing second. My best friend was right in front of me for five years, and I never knew that he could kiss me like this and make me _feel_ like this.

Soon he adds his tongue to the mix; and my heart shoots to my throat. What was once sweet and kind, is suddenly frenzied, and causes the junction of my thighs to pulse and ache. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer to me. My hands glide down the toned muscles of his back, and land at the edge of his boxers. Peeta kisses me harder, his lips rough with mine, and my fingers dip into his underwear.

Peeta pulls away, disengages my body from his and rolls over to lie on his back next to me.

"What?" I ask, aching to hold him again.

He shakes his head. "We can't get carried away right now, Katniss. We need to talk and work things out. There are things I need to ask you about and things I need to tell you." He rubs his hands over his face. "Though trust me, there's nothing more I want to do than take you again and again until we both die of dehydration." He turns his face to me and grins, both cocky and amused with himself.

I glare at him half-heartedly and smack his chest with the back of my hand. But honestly, that sounds amazing.

"Okay, let's talk now," I tell him. I need to be with him again. The sooner this is over, the sooner that can happen.

He nods his head and pulls me to him again, my head fitting perfectly in the crook of his shoulder. "I'll make breakfast."

* * *

I sit on the counter and watch as Peeta mixes batter for funnel cakes. When he turns around and moves past me to get oil from the cupboard, I snatch his arm and pull him back to me; I kiss him soundly but short and pull away smiling. He smiles back.

"I love that I can do that now," I explain, when his forehead furrows in quizzical amusement.

"I love that you want to do that," he says still smiling, but there's sadness behind the statement. If he's cared about me for so long, I've obviously hurt him more times than I can count without even meaning to. Shit. I've got a lot of making up to do.

He kisses me again before grabbing the oil and moving to the stove. It's comfortable silence as he finishes our breakfast. Then he tops the fried, artery-clogging deliciousness with all of our favorites—applesauce, peanut butter, powdered sugar, sprinkles—and we share it; each of us feeding the other. I know it's corny, but I can't help but get enjoyment out of it. We kiss between bites, some lingering and some short, and I feel weightless—high on Peeta.

That is, until breakfast is over and all the dishes are in the sink. A heavy pall is cast over us. I take a deep breath and make my way to Peeta's room; he follows me. As soon as I enter, I throw myself down on the bed and spread out. Peeta stands at the end and watches me.

"If we're going to talk, I figured we should be comfortable," I tell him. Peeta nods and moves over to his closet. He pulls out two sweatshirts and tosses me the one he doesn't throw over his own shoulders. I quickly pull it on and inhale his scent. It's my favorite hoodie of his, one he got when he was a cook at a children's summer camp a few years back. I don't really know why I like it so much; I mean, it's comfy and all, but for some reason I'm drawn to it and its annoyingly bright yellow print against the black cloth.

Peeta crawls onto the bed and lies down on his side; I mirror his position. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and hold him, but I know it's not the time for that.

"Shoot," I say, waving my hand.

He gives me a soft smile. And then he begins to talk. "I don't blame you, Katniss, I want you to know that," he starts. "You really had no reason to think I had feelings for you all these years. I didn't want to blur the lines with us and risk losing you entirely, so I kept my distance for a long time. You were with Gale, and you were pretty happy with him, and I would never in a million years try to ruin that—even though it crushed me to watch him treat you anything less than the most amazing person I've ever known.

And then I met Madge. I fell for her quickly, though it never felt right. But I ignored that. I told myself she was who I wanted and that I would be happy with her. Her cheating was probably the best thing that happened in our entire relationship. I roamed around for hours after I walked in on them, just berating myself for being so ignorant. It was that night that I finally realized it was a mistake—all of it. The relationship, the proposal, the love; it wasn't real. I was trying to force myself into the life I had planned for the longest time."

His eyes fly to mine, and I can tell he notices the unwanted tears forming in my eyes. He continues, "I wanted you, Katniss. I knew I shouldn't because you were my best friend, but I couldn't help it. When something good happened, I told you; when I was upset, I went to you; when I needed help, I asked you. But I pushed my feelings away. Until that night. God, when you said those things to me about the only person who would be good enough for me would be the one I chose, I just couldn't take it. I wanted to choose you."

He runs his hands through his hair and I can see the anger begin to build in his sapphire eyes. "And then I fucked it up by forgetting. After you fell asleep that night, I watched you, just thinking about everything I was going to do the next day to show you that it's always been you for me. But I forgot! I'll never forgive myself—especially now that I know that it made you realize you loved me too." I reach my hand out and weave my fingers with his, trying to calm him. He takes a steadying breath. "These weeks since have been hellish. You let me touch you more, which I loved more than anything, but it was never enough and just reminded me that I was never going to fully be with you. I had you for one night, and then I let it all slip through my fingers."

His gaze focuses on me again and he closes the space between us to kiss my forehead. "I love you," he tells me. "And I'm never going to let you out of my hands again." He says it simply, like he's telling me what he ate for lunch the previous day, but there's a deep promise that make me quiver and my heart swell. He pulls back and smiles; I return it. "Do you have any questions for me?"

I open my mouth to tell him no, relishing in the words he's just spoken, but some things suddenly nag at me. "W-why did you ask me not to sleep with Finnick last night, after everything I told you? And what the hell were you doing during the time I told you and the time you got to the bar?"

His eyes dance as a smile creeps up his face. "I was planning a speech to tell you basically what I just told you, except with more declarations of eternal love and happiness. It took me a while to wave off the shock of what you told me, too." A small chuckle escapes him. "But all that preparation flew out the window when I saw you with Finnick. Something just snapped."

The smile instantly vanishes from his face and the room fills with discomfort. "I've watched you date and flirt with all of these worthless guys since I've known you, and there you were, hours after telling me that you loved me, out with another one. Rationally, I knew you weren't planning on sleeping with him, but I just couldn't stand the thought of you choosing another one of those guys who treat you like shit instead of someone like me—someone that wouldn't stop until you were nothing but completely satisfied and unbelievably happy."

"Finnick isn't like that," I point out, slightly defensive. The guys I choose aren't that bad, right?

Peeta shrugs. "I'm sure he's fine, but I didn't want you to touch him. I didn't want you to be with anyone but me, and I kind of freaked."

I nod my head in understanding. If I had seen Peeta with a girl right after he told me that he loved me, I would have clawed the bitch's eyes out.

"Any more questions?" he asks, his hand playing with the end of my braid.

I nod again. "When did you realize you had more than a crush on me? When you actually had legitimate feelings?"

A smile lights up his face, and he leans forward; his hot breath skims my ear and causes me to shiver as he whispers, "Victor's Village Music Festival."

* * *

_Peeta. Is. Getting. WASTED. _

_I watch him do another shot and shoot his hands in the air as the crowd around him cheers; his golden hair is plastered to his forehead from the drizzle and his eyes are glittering in the light of the bonfire. That's his tenth in a row. I'm not sure when or why the crowd started to cheer him on—I think it was before the second keg stand. But Peeta seems to have that effect on people; he's so damn charismatic and draws them in. _

_Several people clap him on the back as he makes his way through them and over to where I sit on a discarded keg that was drained hours ago. _

"_Impressive," I tell him with a smile on my lips, nodding at him. He grins at me, his eyes glazed over._

_This is our first official trip as friends. We've gotten closer and closer this past year, to the point where I can't imagine not having him around. I spend so much time at his apartment, half the time I find myself driving there on my way home from work instead of my own place._

_Victor's Village Musical Festival is held in this old field a few hours from us, and is known for its line-up. The bands that come to this seemingly unimportant festival kick ass every year, and I was so freaking blown away when Peeta got tickets for us a couple months back. I'm pretty sure I almost kissed him on the mouth out of pure joy and surprise. _

"_Well, you don't know this about me, sweetheart, but I have some very remarkable talents," he says. And if I didn't know him any better, I would think he was flirting. _

"_Oh, I bet." God, this is amusing. I've been nursing the same beer for hours, and he is just hammered. Out of the two of us, I never figured I would be the responsible one, but Peeta needed this. He is always so put together—he needs to get a little crazy and drunk every once in a while._

"_I would blow your mind, Katniss," he says, raising his eyebrows seductively and swaying on his feet. "Just say the word."_

_I bark out a laugh, sliding off my seat. "Okay, I think it's time for bed." I take a few steps toward him and reach for his wrist to check the time: 2:34 a.m. Yeah, definitely bedtime. "Let's head back to the tent." I wrap my arm around his waist and begin to pull him back to the camp we set up hours ago, right when the sun was setting. _

_Luckily, this impromptu bonfire at the campsite where we are staying, a few miles from the festival, isn't too far away from our tent, so I don't have to drag Peeta's drunk and surprisingly muscled ass too far._

_When our slightly weathered tent, damp from the rain, comes into view, I whisper to Peeta, "Hold onto me so I can unzip our tent without you falling over." The arm he has around my shoulders tightens and his other one slowly slides across my stomach, accidently lifting my shirt up so his soft hand rests on my bare skin; shivers take over my body. He squeezes me as his head falls to rest on my shoulder. _

_My hands move to the zipper and I begin to slide it down the curve of the tent when Peeta's voice interrupts me. "You smell so good in the rain," he whispers, his lips grazing my ear. _

"_Well, you smell like a wet dog," I lie, tearing the zipper the rest of the way and throwing the fabric aside. Truth is he smells so delicious it makes my thighs clench—but I don't want to think about Peeta that way. He's my friend. Peeta chuckles, his chest rumbling against my side. _

_The two of us duck inside and I let Peeta flop down on his twin-sized air mattress. I re-zip our tent before I kneel down next to Peeta and take off his shoes. _

_He mumbles to himself incoherently as he runs his hands across his face and into his beautifully disheveled locks. The rain continues its pitter-patter as I pull off his socks, and then move to remove his jeans. As soon as I pop the button open, Peeta's eyes zero in on me. I tilt my head to the side, examining his expression; his eyes are darker than I've ever seen them, his mouth slightly open as his tongue runs back and forth across his upper lip slowly, and his eyebrows are furrowed. I look away, heat rising to my face as I realize how intimate this is._

"_I'm not trying to cop a feel, I swear," I joke as I lower his zipper, hoping to release the tension that is suffocating. Peeta barks out a laugh and sinks further into the bed, his expression now an amused one. _

_I tug at his belt loops and ask him to raise his hips so I can remove his pants entirely; I chuck them in the corner, next to his bag. "Okay, lazy, get into your sleeping bag," I tell him, averting my eyes from the scrap of navy cloth that covers his junk._

_He juts out his bottom lip. "Help me, please. I'm an invalid."_

_I roll my eyes, but do it anyway, tugging on the fleece until he's inside and zipped in like a caterpillar. _

"_Now, close your eyes so I can change. And if you peek, I will punch you in the face." I raise my eyebrows, challenging him, but he nods and does what I ask. As quickly as possible, I root through my backpack and change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, tossing my dampened shorts and shirt aside. I dart into my sleeping bag and get myself situated before I turn to him again. _

_But he's already out, and snoring softly. _

_I chuckle to myself before turning onto my other side and snuggling my face into my pillow. I still see the brightly burning bonfire through the tent and hear the laughs that echo in the trees that surround us. It was an amazing day. It was only the first day of the three day festival, but I can tell that it is going to be awesome. Peeta and I danced unashamedly, walked from band to band and ate deliciously fattening food. He even let me sit on his shoulders at one point and I screamed as loud as I could as a band played one of my favorite songs of all time. And even though I've never been a fan of crowds, I knew Peeta wasn't going to leave my side, his arms always there to steady me._

_Suddenly, those arms were wrapping around me and pulling me off my mattress until I was on his._

"_What are you doing?" I ask, starting to move away from him. But his grip just gets tighter._

"_I just want to hold you," he whispers, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Please let me."_

_Unable to think of a single word in the English dictionary, I nod my head, and he takes a deep breath. I listen closely until his breathing becomes steady and even and I know without a doubt that he's asleep again._

_A realization rocks me to my core and I try not to jerk against Peeta and wake him up: this is the first time I've ever slept with a man. Literally. I've had sex before, with a guy I met at an archery meet when I was seventeen, but I've never spent the night with a guy in the same bed. The tent is suddenly a hot box, and I feel sweat bead on my neck and upper lip. What do I do when we wake up? What if he gets a hard-on in the middle of the night? What if he tries to make a move? _

"_Turn around," Peeta mumbles into my ear; I start, not realizing he had woken up again. But I turn anyway. His blue eyes are barely open, his eyelashes casting long shadows onto his cheekbones. He lifts his hand from my waist and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear._

_Before I realize what he's doing, my sleeping bag is unzipped and he's pulling me into his. For some reason, I don't fight it. I just let him. _

"_Why are you doing this?" I ask as he holds me to his chest, his legs intertwining with mine. _

"_I'm not sure," he mumbles, pressing his forehead to mine. "I guess I can't hold myself back anymore."_

_I open my mouth to say more, but he puts his finger to my lips._

_The warmth of our two bodies wrapped up in each other pulls me under, too soon for me to fully analyze why my stomach is filled with butterflies._

* * *

"Really?" I ask, remembering the warmth of that first night together.

He nods, smiling softly. "Yeah. That first day so amazing, the first time we were out of our element together, and you were just so…beautiful. Inside and out. I always knew you were strong, from the first second I met you, but that was the first time I saw how soft you could be. You took care of me." His eyes get a wicked glint in them. "And it didn't hurt that you were wearing the tiniest jean shorts known to man, and you were grinding against me all day."

I smack his arm. "I was not grinding against you."

He chuckles, "Just a little. But seriously, I don't know why exactly, but that night made me realize I was falling for you."

I move into him again and crash my lips into his, not caring that his is supposed to be chatty time and not get-it-on time. Peeta's hand finds the back of my neck and he holds my face to his, controlling the kiss. This tongue flicks into my mouth, swirling around mine and my heart jumps into my throat as my thighs shake.

Grinning, he pulls away. "I love your reaction to that," he whispers, nudging my nose with his.

I glare at him. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not! I swear. I just—," he cuts off, his gaze suddenly lustful. "I just can't wait for your reaction when I do that to another part of your body."

A growl escapes my throat as I move to attack him again, but he pulls away, shaking his head—his face suddenly serious again. Right. I forgot. We're supposed to be talking. "Tease," I tell him, my voice hoarse from arousal or frustration, I don't really know.

He smiles apologetically. "Later."

* * *

I let the hot water beat the sexual frustration out of me. We decided to take a break after Peeta's confession, and knowing my usual tendency to run away from touchy feely things, Peeta suggested I take a shower while he bakes some bread. And it was a smart suggestion. I feel the flight instinct seep out of my bones. But I feel nervous tension creep in.

When I get out of this shower, it's going to be my turn. My turn to say all the things I've wanted to say for months. But I…don't want to. My struggles feel meaningless compared to Peeta's. He's loved me for years and I was oblivious, waving my relationships in his face.

Done with putting off the inevitable, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. I quickly towel off and change into clean clothes—except for Peeta's sweatshirt—and make my way into the kitchen to find Peeta.

He's slipping the dough into the oven when I arrive; he turns around to face me, a smile lightening up his beautiful face.

"I don't want to go to work tomorrow," I say suddenly, as dread fills my stomach. This day has been everything I dreamed. I've learned that Peeta loves me just as I love him. And reality….well, it always has a way of ruining beautiful dreams.

Peeta's face darkens and crosses the kitchen to pull me into his arms. "There's nothing to worry about, love. I'm going to be here when you come home."

I nod my head, willing away the worrying. If only that ever actually worked.

Still sensing my tension, he quickly moves us out of the kitchen and back into his orange bedroom. We crawl back onto the bed and Peeta leans over me, nuzzling his face into my neck. "You smell so good after you take a shower," he practically moans. I lift my hand to the back of his neck, threading my fingers into his hair.

We lie in comfortable silence, and soon, the emotional exhaustion from the day starts to catch up; my eyes flutter closed. But Peeta's voice pulls me back to consciousness, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I mumble, my eyes still shut.

"Why did you let me…" he trails off.

"Let you what?"

"Come inside you that night?"

My eyes fly open. Really? That's what he wants to ask me. Jesus, personal much? I turn my face to him; and it breaks my heart. His blue eyes are full of wonder and aching sadness. And I don't know why.

"I know it's a weird question, but I have to know. You didn't know you loved me until after we had sex, so why did you let me?" he asks again.

"I…" I start, but words fail me. I don't know why. It was just, it felt _right_. Everything with Peeta does. "I guess I already knew." I lift my hand again and place it on his stubbly cheek. "Like I said yesterday, I think in the back of my mind I've always loved you. And that night, I just needed you. It was you, Peeta. I wouldn't want that with anyone else."

He brings his face out from my neck and links his lips with mine again; a hunger tears through my body. But again, I know it's not the time right now.

"It's going to be impossible to keep my hands off of you," Peeta whispers when we finally break away.

I smile at him, my entire body throbbing with anticipation.

"But let's just relax for tonight," he says, throwing a blanket over the two of us. "Tomorrow, it can be your turn."

I nod my head, dread filling my stomach.

Shit.

* * *

**Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed that chapter. The next one will be Katniss story time! Thanks again to all my readers for your support.**

**AND, apparently, I was nominated for TWO different Everlark Smut Awards, which I didn't even know was a thing! ****_I Don't Want To Forget _****was nominated for Best Drunken Smut and ****_A Slow Burning Fire _****was nominated for Best Work In Progress Smut. THANK YOU SO MUCH. You have no idea what it means just to be nominated by one of you guys. So if you are bored, you can vote for me at their Tumblr! There are some amazing fics up for nomination and I am so humbled to be mentioned in the same sentence as them, let alone nominated with them. **


	13. Chapter 13

"Do we have toilet paper?"

I turn down the aisle of the grocery store a couple blocks from our house and head for the fluffy stuff. Peeta trails alongside me, glancing at the medicines on the other side. An elderly couple stands at the end of the aisle, looking at foot powders.

"I'm not sure," he says, picking up a bottle of lotion. "You use it four times as much as I do, so I think you'd have a better approximation."

I roll my eyes. Yeah, I'm a girl. We do that. I scan the paper, eager to find the brand we chose last time, though the name evades me.

"Have you cured your yeast infection yet?" Peeta asks, his voice louder than normal. My eyes bug out of my head, and I turn to him to find his eyes dancing with amusement but his face serious. "I've noticed you stopped itching as much but we can get more cream if you need." My eyes fly to the couple and see their stares and looks of mild horror. Wow. What a douche! I don't have a yeast infection! I turn my face back to the toilet paper and fake nonchalance. Two can play this game

"Yeah, it's cured," I say, loud too. "Did you get those extra-small condoms?"

I glance over to him and see the corner of his mouth twitch as he fights a smile. "Yeah. Extra lubricated, because I know how it takes awhile for you to get wet."

The couple storms out of the aisle none too quietly, as the woman begins to rant about kids these days and their lack of propriety to her husband. Peeta barks out a laugh as soon as they're gone, bending over.

"That was so mean!" I say, but I'm smiling. That was actually kind of hilarious.

Peeta continues to laugh as he pulls my body away from the cart and towards him, his hands gliding around waist and resting on the small of my back. "Yeah, well, you dished it out too."

I place my hands on his chest and look around to make sure we are alone. I've never been a huge fan of PDA. Get a fucking room, people, I mean seriously; I don't want to watch you have sex in the middle of a children's park. "Well, what I said was true," I quip, looking down at the front of his jeans and back up to his lop-sided grin, raising my eyebrow.

His eyes flash with lust as his smirk fades. "I think you're misremembering things," he almost growls, his grip tightening on me; my skin is suddenly boiling. "Maybe I need to give you a reminder."

Another couple turns down our aisle and I move away from Peeta and back to the task at hand, grabbing a package of tissue and not even knowing what the hell brand it is. I take off down the grubby, white linoleum, grateful for the interruption. I honestly don't know what I was going to do, but I can guarantee it wouldn't have been appropriate to do in public. Peeta catches up, and walks in step with me as we head toward the front of the store to the cashiers; he rests his hand on my lower back. I am suddenly incredibly eager to get him alone and I don't even care that we still have several items left on our list. And Peeta's in obvious agreement.

* * *

As soon as the last of the groceries are put away, my back is thrown against the wall and Peeta's lips are on mine. My hands dive into his hair, pulling at the blonde roots as his lips are rough and punishing, but still unbelievably warm and kind. He lifts my left leg up and hitches it over his hip, grinding himself into me; he's already hard and ready. But I'm throbbing too, my thighs quivering with anticipation. A groan escapes my throat as I push my chest to his, my nipples pebbling against his firm muscles. His tongue swirls around mine before he bites on my bottom lip, hard and perfect.

Then suddenly he's raising me up and laying me down on the kitchen island before he jumps up and crawls on himself, hovering over me. And then I'm tearing at his clothes; his shirt rips open for me and I run my fingers down the planes of his stomach, my nails digging into his beautiful, cream skin. When I reach the edge of his jeans, without hesitation, I plunge my hands into denim. Then he's in my hand, hard and pulsing. Peeta groans into my mouth as I pump his deliciously smooth member slowly, my grip hard.

Peeta's mouth leaves mine and the air is ripped from my lungs as he brings it to my breast, sucking hard and biting my nipple through my thin t-shirt and bra. Yet I still feel it. My entire body is suddenly engulfed in flames and I come, moaning his name.

When the ripples fade, Peeta pulls his talented mouth away and looks down at me, all other movements ceased.

"I didn't even have to touch you," he whispers, and I feel him grow in my hand even more.

I turn my gaze away from his, embarrassment flooding me. Jesus, that's never happened to me before. Talk about pent up sexual frustration.

"You sound pleased with yourself," I pant.

I see him grin out of the corner of my eye. He brings his lips back to me, kissing at the sensitive spot under my ear. "Not with myself," he whispers, licking at my lobe. "With you. That was so fucking hot, Kat. I forgot how amazing it was to watch you come because of something I did."

But then he pulls away, slipping off the island. I sit up instantly, and watch him tuck himself back into his jeans, though he's still throbbing enticingly; I lick my lips.

"Don't do that to me," Peeta whines. "I'm trying to show some self-restraint her."

"Please don't," I practically beg. I hate how needy my voice sounds, but that's what I am. Needy for Peeta.

"Kat—," he starts, but I cut him off.

"Yeah, I know. Building a sound foundation."

He nods and walks over to me, pressing his forehead to mine. His beautiful hands run up and down my thighs. "I want us to take our time. Relearn each other as more than friends." I nod my head against his. "I love you," he tells me, kissing my nose.

My face ignites in a smile that I can't help. I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing him say that. "I love you, too."

We kiss again, both still smiling. He lifts me off the counter and sets me on the ground, but continues to hold me close. And I'm grateful. I love being near him.

"Tacos sound good to you?" he asks, and I nod my head. "Okay, I'll get started."

He separates himself from me and begins snatching pans from various locations. "I want to watch," I tell him. I don't really cook myself. We tried cooking together once, and needless to say, it ended with the fire alarm blaring and a chicken that was basically ash. So now I just watch and grab the things he needs.

"Can you change first?" He takes the package of ground beef from the top shelf of the fridge and moves to the stove, his back to me.

"Change? Why?"

"Because my mouth impression is on your breast and it reminds me of how much I want to bend you over the counter and bury myself inside you." I quake at his words as wetness pools within me. Seriously, again? "And I'm trying to de-bonerize myself here."

"De-bonerize?" I question sarcastically.

"Just, please, love?"

I huff out a breath. "Fine, but don't be surprised if I come back naked just to torture you." And then I escape back to my room. As I toss off my damp shirt, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror I have above my dresser and I'm taken aback. My face is glowing, almost literally; my skin brighter and fresher looking than I have ever seen it. My grey eyes are bright and actually have life in them. I guess being in love with Peeta has changed me. In the best way possible.

I quickly dress myself in the blue hoodie Peeta gave me for Christmas last year and go back to my lovely boyfriend.

He's chopping onions and trying not to tear up when I enter again. His biceps pulse and quiver each time he brings the knife down and I find myself biting my lip to prevent myself from moaning aloud. Fuck. Why do I find everything he does now so incredibly sexy?

"Can you get me a tomato from the fridge?" Peeta asks, bringing me out of my daydream. I do what he asks, bending over to snatch the red veggie/fruit out of the bottom drawer. I set it down on the cutting board in front of him. "Thanks, beautiful." He pecks me on the cheek.

I twiddle with my zipper, suddenly unable to keep it in any longer. "Can I just start now?" I ask as he throws the onions into the frying pan; they sizzle with the contact.

"Start what?" Peeta raises his eyebrows at me.

"Talking. It's my turn tonight."

His face flashes with something I can't identify before he says, "Of course."

"I just want to do it while you are distracted, so I'm less nervous," I explain.

Peeta gives me his signature look: warm disbelief with a hint of sexy. "Kat, you don't have to be nervous with me. I will love you. Always."

"Always," I repeat, a smile on my face. The word has an entire new significance in our relationship now. It's not just a promise of friendship. It's more. And maybe it always was.

"Peeta," I say, now watching him slice the tomato into perfect cubes. "I'm scared."

His eyes fly to me and he immediately drops the knife as he takes a step in my direction. But I hold my hand up to stop him. "No, just listen.

"You are my family. I haven't seen Prim in almost a year, my mother abandoned me, and my father _died_. You are all I have left. So if this ends badly, not only will I lose the love of my life, I will lose my family all over again. And it will kill me.

"But you know what else will kill me? Not being with you. These last months when I knew without a doubt that I was in love with you, but didn't say anything, were fucking torture. So I want, no _need_, to risk the chance of losing my family, even if I only get one hour to be with you again."

"So I ask this of you, and I know it's not fair, but I need it. _Be patient with me_. I'm moody and crazy and angry, but I will try to be better for you. Because you deserve someone better than me. But I'm too selfish to let you go."

I take a deep breath, the speech I practiced all day at work finally finished. Peeta never did go back to cooking, he just watched me intently, his expression unfathomable.

"You are all I want," I whisper, unable to take the silence anymore. "And I will never want anyone other than you for the rest of my life."

In a single stride, he crosses the kitchen and pulls me into his arms. I bury my face in his chest, and breathe in his scent of cinnamon and musk. He kisses the top of my head.

"You are my past, my present, and my future, Katniss," he murmurs against my forehead.

And that's that.

* * *

"Can I ask you some questions?"

I move my gaze from the TV to Peeta's face. We're resting on the couch, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around my back.

"Of course," I respond, nuzzling into toned pecs. He smells like laundry detergent and dill right now.

"Did you sleep with Cato? You know, when you went over there a few weeks ago?" His voice is soft, but I can tell that he's nervous—nervous for the answer.

I shift up his body, until my head is next to his and I'm basically lying on top of him. "No, I couldn't go through with it. We kissed, but it didn't go any further than that." He nods his head and the crinkle in his forehead disappears. "Finn kissed me too," I tell him, figuring I should be completely honest about everything, "but it was only once and there wasn't even tongue involved—I barely kissed him back."

I can tell he didn't like to hear that; his entire body stiffens under mine. And I feel unbelievably guilty.

"I swear, it meant nothing, Peeta. I loved you and I thought that you didn't love me back, so I was doing all of this stuff to try to get my mind off of you; force myself to fall out of love with you. But it was impossible. I whispered your name when I was kissing Cato and he said something to me that reminded me of you and I bolted out of there." I take a deep breath. "And with Finnick…well he told me that he liked me, but I told him I was hung up on somebody else and I always would be."

I nestle my face into his neck, kissing the skin behind his ear. "You're the only person I ever want to kiss, Peety. Ever again."

His hands begin to move up and down my back in a soothing motion, but I can tell the action is more for him instead of me. "I don't like hearing about someone else kissing you or touching you, Kat, I'm not gonna lie," he whispers, kissing my hoodie-clad shoulder.

"I know," I say, my left hand running along his clavicle through his shirt.

"I wanted to punch Gale in the face so many times whenever we hung out when you weren't there."

I pull away from his neck and stare at him. His blue eyes are hard; his hands have formed into fists on my back. "Why?" I ask, confused.

He shakes his head, exhaling uncomfortably. "He used to…tell me about you. Brag, I guess."

"Are you serious?" I'm going to punch him in the face the next time I see him.

"Yeah. And god, I wanted to be in his place—I was so fucking jealous," he growls, lifting a hand from my back to run through his hair. "But I also hated that he would even talk about you like that to someone else. I don't ever want to tell the details of our sex life to my friends. It's private and special, and I want it to be between us—only us."

I press a small kiss to his nose. "You are too good for me," I tell him with a smile on my face. Damn, he's so special. I take a deep breath. "But honestly, I think he told you those things because he was jealous of _you_."

"Me?"

I nod. "Yeah. Our biggest fight—the one that ended our relationship—had to do with you."

* * *

_Gale's late. Again._

_He's supposed to take me to a special dinner tonight, you know, to make up for being late last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. But here he is, late again._

_"I thought Gale was supposed to be here by now," Peeta says, plowing into the living room and plopping down on the couch next to me. I tug at the hem of my dress, wishing it was longer. But Gale likes it when I dress a little sexier, and I wanted to do this for him. It was supposed to be a fancy dinner tonight. But now he's late. AGAIN._

_"He was," I say, trying to decide if I should yell or cry. I honestly feel like doing both. Fucking asshole. Why can't we have one night that goes perfectly? We haven't had one of those since the first year of our relationship; but now we are on year three and I'm tired of not being a priority to him._

_I watch as Peeta's eyes darken with sadness, then flash with something else that looks like anger. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him, pulling me on his lap. I immediately wind my arms around his neck and bury my face into the crook of his shoulder. It feels so good to be held by him. _

_"I'm so sorry, Kitty. I hate that he does this to you," he whispers into my ear, running his left hand down my bare arm. "You look so stunning tonight and he can't even show up on time to appreciate it—appreciate you."_

_Suddenly, the door is thrown open and I pull my face away from Peeta to find Gale standing in the doorway, in jeans and a rumpled blue button-up. I push myself up off Peeta and grab my purse on the coat rack by the door, then leave my house, barely acknowledging my boyfriend. But I hear the door shut loudly behind me and his soft footsteps, so I know he's following me. _

_I climb into his black beat-up truck and slam the door, my anger erupting now that Peeta's soft presence is gone. Gale does the same. We drive in hostile silence and I realize quickly that we aren't heading to a restaurant, but to his shit-hole apartment about a mile from my house. _

_When we arrive at the chipping blue painted apartment complex, we both stomp up the first flight of stairs and down the hall, and through the white door of the place he shares with his roommate. And as soon as I shut it behind me, the yelling starts. _

_"What the fuck, Katniss?!" Gale curses, kicking off his shoes. _

_"What do you mean 'what the fuck, Katniss?'? I didn't do anything! You were fucking late again, for the date you made to make up for being late before! Do you not realize how fucked up that is?!" I shout, throwing my hands out at him._

_"You were all over Peeta when I walked in! Talk about ways _you_ fuck up all the time," he sneers, pulling at his hair. _

_"What are you talking about?" God, this is ridiculous. Peeta? What does he have to do with anything?_

_"He wants to fuck you, Katniss—he always has! And you just fall for his tricks to get you into his bed. You let him hold you and console you and treat you like a baby and you just go all goo-goo for it!" He groans, placing his hands on his hips. "He is such a pussy and you just love it." _

_I point my finger at him, even more anger rising up. "Don't you dare talk about him like that! He is my best friend. And he treats me a million times better than you do. You barely give a shit about me!"_

_"YOU'RE RIGHT! I DON'T!" he screams. _

_I still as my entire world collapses around me. He doesn't care about me._

_Gale's face immediately falls. "Katniss, I didn't mean that," he says, his voice back to normal. "I love you, baby, you know that."_

_But I don't. I don't know that. He doesn't act like it. He doesn't treat me like you are supposed to treat the person you love. He doesn't call or come when he says he will. He never shows affection unless were alone, and even then it's just fucking. Never making love. He flirts with other girls but hates it when guys talk to me. We fight too much. He never came to any of my shows. He doesn't care. He doesn't…love me._

_I shake my head. "No. You were right the first time: you don't care about me." _

_"Kat—"_

_"No. This," I wave between the two of us, "is over. We aren't good for each other."_

_"Katniss, you can't break up with me." His voice isn't sad or angry, it's sarcastic. Like he doesn't think I'm actually doing it. But I am. _

_"Don't call me or come over—not like you ever do anyway. We're officially done. Broken up. I don't want to be with you anymore. I don't want to see you ever again." I feel the tears in my eyes, but I can't let them fall. I can't look weak in front of Gale. I can't let him see that I'm hurting_

_I turn around and quickly leave his apartment. I let the tears stream down my face as I begin the walk home._

* * *

"I—I didn't know," he stutters, pressing his forehead to mine.

"How would you? It's not like I was eager to talk about it." I move my hand from his collarbone to his cheek; I rub his stubble with my palm. "Do you have any more questions?" I ask.

He nods his head with mine. "I do, but I'll ask them tomorrow. Right now I just—I just want to hold you and go to sleep."

I pull my forehead away from his and look down on him, surprised at the quiver in his voice. He looks sad, and a little bit guilty. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, love. I just need to show you that I will never—" he cuts himself off, swallowing loudly, "I will never be like him, okay? I might get jealous, but I will never yell like him. And I might get mad, but you will always be my number one."

I nod, at a loss for words. He nods back at me and sits up, taking me with him. He turns off the TV quickly before pulling me into his arms and lifting me up. He walks me to his bedroom, holding me to his chest, and places me down on the bed before crawling onto it himself. We dive under the covers together and he presses his lips against mine, urgent and consoling. I kiss him back, eager to relieve the unnecessary guilt and worry he has. I know that he will never be Gale.

I will never forget that.

* * *

**Hey all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter—it was a fun one to write. It had a little romance and sexiness and heartbreak. And there is more to come with all three of those things! Thank you so much for your support, and it was awesome to see that ****_I Don't Want To Forget_**** tied for first in the Everlark Smut Awards for Best Drunken Smut. That's awesome and hilarious! :D You are all so badass. Thanks for following, favoriting and reviewing! And I do have a new story called ****_Not Broken, Just Bent_**** that you can check out if you are bored!**


	14. Chapter 14

"I wanna take you out tonight."

I freeze mid-chew, and turn around in my chair to face Peeta. He's leaning against the kitchen island, watching me eat my cereal and read the paper.

"Like a date?" I mumble, placing the paper down and giving him my full attention.

He snorts and pushes off the island, and makes his way towards me. "Of course. We've had sex and we've confessed our love and we've slept in the same bed, but we haven't officially gone out on a date."

"We eat dinner together every night," I point out.

He leans down and places his hands on the arms of my chair, forcing me to lean back; he hovers over me, his face only a few inches from mine. "Dammit Everdeen, will you just let me take you on a date?" he teases before leaning forward and pecking my cheek.

I smile and nod my head. "Sure." I lift my hands and place them on his solid chest. "Now kiss me properly."

"God, you're commanding," he says, shaking his head in mock horror. But his façade fades and he grins as he brings his lips to mine, kissing me with all the gentleness in the world.

I slip my hands under the collar of his ratty t-shirt, pressing my palms against his warm, firm skin. I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue into his mouth to toss with his; he tastes like mint and orange juice. Peeta's arms are suddenly around my back, bringing my body to his.

But unfortunately, he pulls away all too soon. "I've got to get to the bakery," he whispers breathlessly, "Do you want to meet me there after work?"

"What am I supposed to wear? For our date?"

He rakes is eyes down my body. I'm wearing a simple blue blouse with pleated black plants for work today. "Can you wear your green dress? The strapless one with the bow in the back?"

I love that he knows my wardrobe so well. "Yeah, I can do that for ya."

He kisses me one last time on the lips, letting it linger, before he leaves the house, waving goodbye as he shuts the door.

It's a slow day at work when I get there. I spend most of it experimenting with my herbs, trying to find a good combination to cure a sore throat that Cinna has. I end up using slippery elm bark and marshmallow root to make him a nice tea. And he's so grateful he offers to do my hair for my date with Peeta.

"He's gonna fall all over himself when he sees you," he says as he pulls my hair out of my single braid and puts it on top of my head in a convoluted up-do full of braids and curls and poppy-pins.

With my stomach in nervous knots, all I can say is, "I hope so," before I lapse back into silence. There is just so much riding on dinner; I don't have time to fuss over things like how my hair is going to look.

This is our first date. And I know I shouldn't be nervous because I've known him for years and like he said earlier today, we've already slept together, but I am. I don't want Peeta to think he made a mistake by choosing me.

By the time my shift is over, I'm fanning myself with clipboard, trying to will away the flustered sweats. Cinna peeks his head into my office and wishes me luck once more before he leaves for the day, and I thank him before grabbing my flowy green dress of my coat rack.

I haven't worn this dress in years. I bought it for a fancy benefit dinner I accompanied Peeta to when he was trying to sucker up to the adult education center to get more funding for his cooking class.

* * *

_"If you just stay by my side, you won't have to do any chit-chat. I'll do all the talking," Peeta whispers into my ear._

_Peeta wraps his arm around my waist and secures me against his body as we walk up the stairs leading to the Nightlock Ballroom. I've never been before, but it's a popular venue for proms and dances and benefit dinners like this one. _

_Peeta practically begged me to come with him tonight. He said he didn't want to just take some random girl—that it would be more fun to go with me—and it's not like I had any plans, but I hate things like this. With the endless, meaningless talking with strangers and the stuffy atmosphere and the restricting clothing._

_"You look phenomenal, by the way," he says nonchalantly, opening the door for the two of us. _

_I feel the blood rush to my face. Peeta has never complimented me like that before. I mean, he's told me I looked good when I was getting ready for a date with Gale or something, but never that like that. And for some reason, I like that he thinks I'm attractive._

_Or maybe it's just the dress. I bought it specifically for this, knowing I wouldn't have anything fancy enough in my closet. It's a simple, flowy strapless dress that cuts off an inch above the knee. It's a sheer deep green fabric with a jeweled bodice that holds my chest in. And there's a frilly little bow in the back that I wish didn't exist, but I can't do anything about it. _

_As soon as we walk into the ballroom, I'm grateful I dressed up. Even though this dress set me back over a hundred bucks, I'm pretty sure I'm still the most underdressed person here. But Peeta looks natural. The tux he rented looks as if it was perfectly tailored to him, with a silky cummerbund and bowtie. He actually looks quite handsome with his hair slicked, not its usual messy state._

_We head towards one of the tables in the front with two empty seats. Peeta immediately greets the table guests with handshakes and introduces me to all of them, though I can't remember their names. He pulls out my chair and I sit down as he slips into the one next to me. I read the notecard the rests on my plate: Peeta Mellark Guest. Wow, this shit is classy._

_I begin to fiddle with the napkin as it sits on my lap, nerves racking me. I don't want to mess this up for Peeta. He deserves this extra money. His class is so helpful and he's so good at what he does. And I've never been able to take the role of the supportive counterpart in public. _

_Peeta must notice my discomfort because his arm is suddenly on the back on my chair, his hand resting on my right shoulder. I turn my face to him and meet his concerned blue eyes. He smiles at me, and a warmth takes over my body, calming my anxiety. _

_"You guys are too cute. How long have you been together?" asks the woman next to Peeta, who I think is named Wiress. She's the head of the adult education program. _

_"Three years," Peeta answers with a charming smile. I nod in agreement, but I'm confused. Why didn't he tell them we're not a couple?_

_"That's wonderful. Young love is such a powerful thing," she says with a soft smile on her face. She clasps the hand of the man next to her—who I'm guessing is her husband. "Beetee and I met when we were about the same age as you two and we're still together. I hope you two experience the same thing."_

_"Thank you," Peeta says with a nod. "So do I." He glances at me quickly with an expression I can't fathom and then turns back to Wiress._

_The conversation quickly turns into a discussion about the food that is placed in front of us—duck à l'orange with a side of rice pilaf—which perfectly transitions into a conversation about funding for his cooking class, but I tune it out. Peeta was such a good actor—talking about a future for us with such a hopeful smile on his face. But why? Why did he act?_

_A squeeze on my shoulder brings me back into the conversation. _

_"You won't regret it, Wiress," Peeta says, smiling widely. "I truly believe this program helps the population."_

_She smiles back at him, shaking her head. "Peeta, I have no doubt that you are a talented teacher. I've seen the student and supervisor assessments, and your classes are always filled. I'm happy to give you more money."_

_A rush of happiness overtakes me and I know I'm grinning like a fool. Peeta is going to be so happy. He leans over and pecks me on the cheek, surprising me. He never does that in public. It's a private thing we only share in moments of stress or when we need comforting—never from happiness. The last time he kissed me was when my mother left and he promised me always, and that was almost four months ago. _

_The rest of the dinner we spend listening to Wiress give a speech about the importance of education for both the youth of America and the adults. She has a commanding presence on stage, her grey hair pulled back from her face in a stylish bun and her purple silk dress exuding power, and everyone is riveted by her. Myself included. _

_When she finishes and the loud applause dies down, she makes her way back to our table. Peeta and I thank her once again for the funding and the conversation, and compliment her on her speech—and then we take leave._

_As soon as the crisp spring air hits my bare arms, I ask Peeta the question that has been plaguing me all night. "Why didn't you tell them we weren't dating?"_

_He slips off his jacket and places it over my shoulders. "It doesn't really matter what they think," he answers. He lifts his hand to run through his hair, but realizes it's jelled back and he can't. "We're probably never gonna see them again, so I didn't see the point in explaining we were just best friends that happen to be opposite sexes and like to touch each other affectionately quite often."_

_I shrug my shoulders. He's kinda right. Our relationship must look weird to anyone outside of it. _

_He wraps his arm around my waist again as we walk back to the car. "It's not a ridiculous assumption, though. Us being together," he whispers so quietly I think it's to himself. _

_I don't say anything, but I agree. It's not completely ridiculous._

* * *

I slip on the dress and sigh as I realize again just how many things I have to make up for.

The shortness of emerald dress instantly makes me self-conscious, but I'll bite the bullet because I know that Peeta likes it. My chest also feels a little too exposed, but again, I focus on the fact that Peeta asked me to wear it. Not wanting to dwell on my imperfections, I quickly put on my coat and slip on my black heels. I grab my discarded clothes and dart out of my office.

The bakery is half-way between our house and _Cornucopia Alternative Health_, so it's only a five minute drive until I'm pulling onto the street and parking in front of the shop, behind Peeta's truck. I put on another layer of my cupcake scented capstick before I climb out of my car and walk the few yards to meet my boyfriend.

A bell rings as I push open the red door and I take a few steps into the freshly painted room. I was totally right: he's painted it sunset orange.

"Babe, is that you?" Peeta calls from somewhere I can't see.

"Yeah!" I shout back.

"I'll be right out!"

I nod my head, even though I know he can't see me, and walk around the room. It looks a million times better than the last time I was here—and that was only two weeks ago. It's shiny—every inch of it scrubbed and dusted—and the chairs are freshly upholstered with red leather. The glass counter has new racks, and there is a chalkboard hanging on the wall behind it with the pastries and breads written in Peeta's hurried scrawl with neon chalk. But the coolest thing is the sign.

It's not hanging up yet, but resting sideways against the wall. It's long rectangle of white wood, and written in a black, curvy printed script it reads: _Mellark's Bakery_. There is a loaf of bread in the corner with three grains of wheat next to it. It's obvious that he designed it himself. It's so very Peeta.

I'm still staring at it when I feel Peeta's arms wrap around my waist and his hot breath in my ear. "Do you like it?" he whispers, sounding nervous.

I place my hands over his as they rest on my stomach. "Yes," I whisper, "It's perfect."

He kisses the spot behind my ear, and then turns me around. We take each other in simultaneously. He's wearing a black blazer over a white button up sans tie, the first two buttons open to expose a triangle of his muscled chest; he's paired it with black pants and black shoes. He looks…fuckable. To say the least. His blonde hair is pleasingly disheveled and his blue eyes are bright like a cloudless sky.

"You are incredibly stunning," he exhales, his mouth turning up into my favorite half-smile. His hands glide down my bare arms, leaving fire in their wake. "How did I get so lucky?"

I smile, unable to fight it. "I'm pretty sure I'm the lucky one."

He leans in slowly and captures my lips in a sweet kiss that causes my heart to pound in my chest. We both pull away grinning.

"Now let's get out of here before I lose control entirely," he says, winding his fingers through mine and pulling me toward the door.

* * *

We walk into _Panem_ _Bistro_ hand in hand. Peeta chats with the hostess, his easy grin causing her to blush. But his eyes never linger on her and her bleach blonde curls. They stay locked on me. She crosses our name off the reservation list and grabs two menus before leading us to the back of the restaurant—a secluded table for two. Peeta pulls out my chair and I sit down as he takes the seat in front of me. Together we thank the waitress before she leaves us alone.

"This place is so nice, Peeta. You didn't have to do this," I half-complain. I mean, it's amazing, but I don't want him spending money unnecessarily. He already has me, body and soul—he doesn't need to go all out.

He tilts his head and gives me his Peeta look. "Katniss, I want our first date to be special. Just enjoy yourself and don't worry about anything."

After the waitress comes by and we order—spicy chicken risotto for me and filet mignon for Peeta—he holds my hand on top of the table. It feels comfortable—like I was always meant to do it; like I was always meant to end up with Peeta.

"What are you thinking about?" he prods; his thumb gently caresses mine and butterflies erupt in my stomach.

"That I like being with you," I tell him honestly.

"I like being with you, too," he replies, grinning uncontrollably. "I'm in love with my best friend—my life is a pop song. What's better than that?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. Oh, Peeta. He's freakin' adorable.

"Actually," he says, shifting in his chair, "I was hoping I could ask you some of the questions I haven't yet, if that's alright."

Hesitantly, I nod. "Are they appropriate for public?"

"Yes. And even if they weren't, we're pretty alone back here. No one would hear us."

I shrug. That's true. "Well, start whenever, I guess."

He takes a deep breath. "This is kind of an awkward one," he admits. "But, um, did you always find me, ya know, attractive? Or is that something new?"

I can't help it. I laugh. "Really, Peeta? That's one of your questions?" He shrugs, red blotches of embarrassment appearing on his cheeks. Oh shit. He's actually worried about it. I squeeze his hand once before speaking. "I have always thought you were one of the best-looking men I have ever seen. From the first moment I saw you, I was attracted to you."

"Really?"

I nod. "Absolutely."

He exhales loudly, smiling broadly. "Okay. Good. Next question. And this one isn't easy." He takes a deep breath, and I'm suddenly nervous. "Why didn't you break up with Gale sooner?"

I freeze, the blood draining from my body. Why? I don't even—why would he ask that?

"Katniss, I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Even you weren't oblivious to the problems in your relationship. Why didn't you dump him earlier?"

"I don't have a good answer for you," I tell him, cutting him off before he says anything else. "I stayed because I wanted it to work. I loved him and I wanted that to be enough. My mother gave up a family fortune and a steady job to be with my father because she loved him. I wanted Gale and I to have a similar kind of love—the kind that defied even when the odds were against us. It just took me a while to realize that wasn't the case for us. The odds weren't circumstance like they were my parents—the odds were the fact that he didn't care about me."

"I do," he whispers, his eyes locked on me. "I will always care about you."

"I know," I tell him, and I do. He'll always be there for me. I have no doubts about that anymore. "I made a mistake with Gale. I thought the fire between us was a good thing, but it wasn't. It was too much. It created a fire that destroyed the village instead of warming it." I squeeze his hand again. It's time for a cheesy moment. "I need someone like you, Peeta. A water to calm my fire."

He stares at me for a long moment, completely silent. "Come here," he finally says, motioning me forward with the hand not in mine. Our lips meet in the middle of the table and I am home. My hand rises to his face and I hold him to me, never wanting the kiss to end—PDA rules be damned. When we finally do separate, our foreheads stay pressed together, our eyes locked on each other.

"Can you ask a happy question next?" I ask when our moment has passed and we're back on our sides of the table.

He nods. "That was the last serious one—I promise." He takes a long sip of his white wine. "Okay: is there anything I can do to be more boyfriend-y?" He must see the confusion in my eyes because he justifies his statement. "It's just, we've been friends for so long and now that we're more than that, I want to be sure to do an excessive amount of things that a boyfriend would do to help the transition."

I shrug my shoulders. "You've already been a better boyfriend in the last few days than Gale was in our entire relationship—and he's the only other boyfriend I've had. So personally, I really don't know what else there is. I just want you to be you, Peeta, and that alone will make me feel loved. So do whatever comes naturally and you'll be fine."

"I can do that," he replies simply.

Our food is placed in front of us before we can say anything else. The aroma of roasted red peppers and juicy chicken overpowers my senses and I'm pretty sure drool is dripping down my chin. The dishes aren't lame or small like you expect of a fancy restaurant, but piled with food. Peeta looks giddy as the waitress sets his steak in front of him, his eyes dancing.

We eat in relative silence, moaning our appreciation and our approval. Each bite I take is an explosion of flavor. The chicken is perfectly seasoned, and with just a touch of heat, it's the perfect dish.

"Want a bite, hun?" I ask, creating a perfect forkful for him. He takes a sip of his wine and nods eagerly; then he opens his mouth and leans over the table. I bring the fork to his mouth and watch as his pale pink lips wrap around it. He leans back into his chair, humming contentedly.

"Wow, that's fantastic," he says after he swallows. "Do you want a bite of mine?"

I nod, and he does the same thing I did for him, cutting me a piece and feeding me across the table. And I love it. Not just the steak—but the action itself. Gale and I never did anything affectionate like this. It's so simple, yet so intimate.

All too soon I'm leaning back in my chair, stuffed beyond belief. Of course Peeta, being a dude, finishes his dish and is grinning at me.

"You look pretty happy," I comment as the waitress comes by to pick up our plates.

His smile just gets bigger. "I am. I've been waiting for this date for five years."

My stomach heaves—and not because of the food. "Peeta, I'm so sorry," I say, the words rushing out of my mouth.

His eyebrows turn in. "Why?"

"I'm so sorry I didn't realize how you felt about me sooner, or how I felt about you. I've wasted so much time—time that could've been together, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been with Gale. I could have been with you and then you wouldn't have had your heart broken by Madge or—"

"Kitty, stop," he cuts me off. "Do you know how many times since we've gotten together that I've hated myself for not telling you how I felt earlier? I've had the same thoughts you've had—that maybe if I had said something earlier, we could have already been together for years. But there's no point in living in the past. If we do, we'll go crazy." He takes both of my hands in his. "It doesn't matter what mistakes we've made in the past. I love you, present tense, and I always will."

I sigh as relief floods me. Peeta just knows how to make me feel better in only a couple sentences.

The waitress comes by again and Peeta takes the check from her, only dropping one of my hands to do so. He quickly gets his wallet out of the pocket on the left side of his blazer and hands over his credit card with a smile.

"You didn't have to do that. We could have split it," I comment. But he just looks at me like I've grown two heads and shakes his head before taking my hand again.

The waitress returns his card to Peeta and the receipt to sign, and my leftovers in a black plastic container. I finish the rest of my wine in one gulp then Peeta is standing beside me, helping me out of my chair. I snuggle into his side as he wraps his arm around me and we walk out of the restaurant. We get back into his truck (Peeta opens my door) and we head back to the bakery.

He puts the car in park and turns off the engine, then turns to me. "Hey, I forgot to close the blinds and such. Can you stay in here while I do it?" he asks.

I nod as he pecks me on the cheek before quickly darting out the vehicle. I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn on the radio to some catchy pop song as I twiddle my thumbs, waiting for Peeta to come back. I watch the clock patiently as five minutes pass by, and then ten. I glance to the bakery and see that the blinds are closed. What the hell did he need to do that's taking so long?

But then he's exiting the building and heading towards me. He opens my door and takes my hand, pulling me from the truck; I notice he's not wearing his jacket anymore.

"What are you doing?" I ask, but he doesn't answer.

He just covers my eyes with his hands, eliminating my vision. I feel him move around so he's behind me, and then he's moving us forward. "No peeking," he says. I hear the bell ring as we enter the bakery again—me wobbling in my heels. He lets his hand fall away from my face, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut. "You can open them now," he whispers in my ear as his arms slide around my waist.

So I do; and my breath is taken away at what I see. The bakery is transformed into something beautiful. And utterly romantic. Covering every available surface are lit flickering candles or various sizes, shapes and colors. There's soft music playing from somewhere, beautiful acoustic music with lyrics about eternal love. But in the middle of the tiled floor is a bed. Not a blow-up mattress, but I real one, with sheets and a red comforter and a million pillows on it. And next to the bed is a little table with dessert—a beautifully crafted chocolate cake decorated in wildflowers.

I turn around in his arms and raise myself onto my tippie-toes so I can kiss him with everything I have, my hands holding his beautiful face.

"So you like it?" he says when I pull away.

"It's amazing, Peeta," I whisper, turning back around. He makes me feel so loved. And it's foreign, but so unbelievably welcome.

I slip off my heels and walk to the mattress, plopping myself down. It's springy and comfortable even though it doesn't have a frame. I lay down on my side as Peeta kicks off his shoes and grabs a piece of cake before he does the same, facing me. He sets the piece between us and gets a bite ready. Then he lifts it to my mouth.

I moan at the taste. God, it's fucking delicious. Chocolate and raspberry and cream cheese overwhelms my senses. Peeta just smirks at me and takes a bite for himself. We share bites back and forth until the piece is gone, and I'm even more stuffed.

"I hope this is special enough for you," Peeta says as he sets the empty plate onto the floor.

I pull him back to me until our faces are only inches apart. "I've never felt more loved in my entire life."

He rests his hand on my neck and runs his thumb along the bottom of my jaw. "Well then just let me love you a little more." So he brings his lips to mine.

His kiss is soft and kind, and my eyes flutter closed to kiss him back; but I let him take the lead. He's the one that is so gung-ho about not having sex, so I want to see how far he takes it. He leaves my mouth and trails kisses down my neck as his hand glides down my body then back up again. Then I feel him tug at the zipper, just under the armpit.

My eyes fly open in surprise, but I don't stop him. I don't want to. He unzips it half way then pulls his hands away and begins to unbutton his shirt, his lips still firmly planted on my neck. I help him shrug it off and then place my hands on his muscled shoulders after it's tossed aside. He brings his arms back to my side and unzips my dress the rest of the way and lets it fall away from my body.

"Sweet Jesus," Peeta mumbles into my neck and I pull away from him to look at his face. But his eyes aren't on me—they are on my chest. I suddenly remember that I didn't wear a bra with this dress—it has a built in one—and I quickly move my arm to cover myself up. "Oh no," he whispers, pulling my arm away, "There's no way in hell I'm letting you hide. You are so beautiful, Katniss."

A shy smile forms on my lips and Peeta kisses me again, more passionately than before. He pushes my dress the rest of the way down my body, and I kick it off; then he works on his pants.

When those are off, he rolls himself on top of me, pressing our bare chests together as he positions himself between my thighs. "Fuck, I want you," he moans, licking his way into my mouth. My hands run down the smooth skin of his sides. God, I want him too.

I can feel him hard and ready, pressing against my heat, and I want so much to wrap my legs around his waist and grind against him to relieve some of the ache I'm feeling. But I don't. I want him to set the pace.

But despite his words, his kisses lose their ardor, and become more relaxed, sweet and loving. I officially know what pace he wants: snail. I try not to groan out loud, and just do it internally. He pulls away and grins down at me, his hand running down the side of my face.

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever," he tells me, his blue eyes bleeding truth.

A smile pulls at my lips. Me too.

* * *

**Hey all! Hope you enjoyed that chapter! I made the flashback a short one because I wanted to focus on the present and how their relationship is transforming. And this chapter was purely a romantic one. But that won't be the case in the next one. Stay tuned! As always, thanks for reviewing, following and favoriting.**

**Tumblr: ****_books-are-better_**


	15. Chapter 15

Peeta is dead to the world.

I try nudging him, elbowing him in the side, shaking him, and even kissing his pump lips—but no. Not a peep. He continues to lie on his back, his limbs spread out, snoring lightly.

Chuckling to myself, I crawl off the mattress and slip on the discarded button-up he wore last night and head to the kitchen. Knowing Peeta, he probably has some pancake batter or something already in the fridge in preparation for this morning after our first date. And I'm right. Right on the top shelf of the humongous fridge is a baking sheet of his special homemade cinnamon rolls, ready to be put in the oven. Next to it is a small bowl which I can see contains the cheese cream frosting. God, just when I thought he couldn't get any more perfect.

I turn the knob on the gigantic oven to 350⁰ and slip the pan in. I'm not sure if that's what I'm supposed to bake it at, so I'll have to just check it regularly. Or try to wake up Peeta again. I decide to do the second option.

I run back to him and jump on the mattress, hoping to startle him awake. Still nothing. Jesus, did I accidently drug him or something last night? I mean, I don't remember much after our heated make-out session besides eating more cake and singing along to "Unchained Melody" at the top of our lungs, but I guess I could have slipped him something. Or maybe he's just sleeping away his sexual frustration. If only I could do the same.

I straddle his lap and begin dancing my fingers up and down his chest. And finally he stirs. His eyes blink open lazily then widen when he sees me on top of him.

"Morning lazy," I tease, scowling half-heartedly.

He grins sleepily up at me and raises his hands to my hips. "You look like you're up to no good," he whispers, yawning through the words.

I pull down his sleeve so I expose my bare shoulder to him, and try my best to give him a seductive look. And I'm pretty sure I succeed—his eyes darken three shades almost instantly. "I would be if we were having sex," I sigh. "But I actually just need help with the cinnamon rolls."

He sits up, our faces now only inches apart. "I will help—but only if we make a new rule." I frown, but nod my head anyway. "From now on, you wear my clothes every second possible."

I bark out a laugh and press my lips with his in a gentle morning kiss. I can work with that.

"You want to hang out today, right?" Peeta asks as he pulls the finished cinnamon rolls out of the oven. I guess I didn't fuck them up entirely. The dough is perfectly golden and the brown sugar is bubbling; he begins to frost them.

"Uh, duh," I respond, rolling my eyes. What else would I do on Saturday? I dip my finger into the frosting and bring it to my mouth; the taste of sugary cream cheese and honey overwhelm my tongue. Damn that's good.

"Well I was thinking we could go to the park today," he whispers, his knife swirling expertly over the roll in his hand.

I nod. That's a great idea. I dip my finger again into the frosting, addicted and unable to wait for Peeta to finish. But before it gets to my mouth, Peeta's is wrapped around my finger. I immediately scowl, but the air is torn from my lungs when I meet his eyes. He looks hungry—and not for cinnamon rolls. His tongue swirls around my finger, flicking and teasing before he releases it with a "pop".

"Wow, my frosting is pretty damn good," he whispers, his voice husky. He turns his gaze back to breakfast, but I can't seem to. I can't help but think about how that tongue would feel between my thighs. "But I think you taste better," he finishes. Okay, now I'm_ definitely_ thinking about it.

I cross my legs, trying to stifle the desire pooling there and a smirk forms on Peeta's red lips as he catches me out of the corner of his eye. This is all his fault. I wouldn't be so easily turned on if it wasn't for this waiting thing. I'm wound up and begging for a release. But I want to give him one just as much—maybe more.

I just hope the opportunity rises soon—and Peeta lets me.

* * *

The rest of the morning is full of delicious food and chaste kisses as we continue to grow together. I never thought that I would be in relationship that was so…consuming. I dreamed of it, of course. I've always wanted to love like my parents, but I never actually thought it would happen—especially after Gale. But Peeta is quickly becoming my everything, and it's both amazing and completely terrifying.

We head back to the house after breakfast, needing to change before we go to the park. I think we might stand out if we wore the elegant clothes we did last night while we feed pigeons and throw a Frisbee.

But I decide to stick with a dress. Peeta seemed pretty pleased with the exposed skin last night, and honestly, there's nothing I enjoy more than making him happy. I slip on basically the only other dress I have—a long sleeved flowy one with autumn leaves on it that Prim gave me for my birthday last year. She said I should flaunt my femininity more. Jeez. You know it's a sad moment when your younger sister tells you to be more womanly. I throw on my old brown leather jacket just for good measure.

I find Peeta in the kitchen (of course) placing something into a wicker basket. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his strong waist and nuzzle my face into the soft fabric of his evergreen sweater.

I feel him release a contented sigh, the tension leaving his body.

"I love you," I whisper, making up for lost time. I know he said yesterday that we can't dwell on the past—and I totally agree—but I can't help but think that Peeta needs to hear those three words a lot.

He takes one of the hands I have on his firm stomach and lifts it. His lips graze my knuckles before he presses them to each one of my fingers. "I've never loved anything more than you in my whole life," he whispers back, his warm breath skittering across my skin.

He holds my hand to his chest, over his heart. It beats in sync with my own.

We stand in the kitchen, my body wrapped around his, in comfortable silence for an hour or fifteen minutes—I don't even know. Time doesn't exist with Peeta. Every second I spend with him feels like forever and a millisecond at the same time.

"What would you like to drink today?" Peeta asks as we release one another all too soon. He resumes setting things into the basket; apples, brie, cheese buns, sliced deli turkey, French bread, cookies.

"I'll grab something," I tell him and cross over to the fridge.

I come back with a bottle of water to share, a can of ginger ale for me and a bottle of Peeta's favorite orange soda. I place them in the basket next to a jar of huckleberry jam. Peeta pecks me on the cheek in response before I leave the kitchen to grab a couple blankets from the hallway closet.

By the time we load into the truck, there's no doubt in my mind that it's going to be an amazing day. The weather is warm and sunny, and Peeta is wearing a pair of cords that hug his backside deliciously.

"I just need to stop by the courthouse really quick before we head to the park," Peeta says as he reaches for me and rests our intertwined hands on the empty space between us. "I need to drop off a permit for the bakery. It'll take two seconds. You can stay in the car if you'd like."

"No, I'll come in with you," I reply, squeezing his hand. I don't want to spend any time away from him today. I don't want there to be any opportunity for unhappiness—which is exactly what would happen if separated.

"Okay." I see a relaxed smile form on his face out of the corner of my eye.

We park in front of the brick building and as soon as we step out of the car, Peeta's arm slides around my waist and he holds me to him as we walk.

I haven't been here in years—since I came with Gale when he was charged with a DUI. Definitely not the happiest of memories.

Since it's Saturday, the whole place is pretty empty, but Peeta seems to know exactly where to go so I follow alongside him blindly. We walk down a long marble hallway.

"Your dress is incredible, by the way," he says as we take a left turn. His hand flexes on my hip. "You look so sexy and innocent."

We stop suddenly in front of a small wooden door, but before I can reach my hand out to open it, Peeta swoops down and kisses me. He's smiling as he presses his lips to mine, and I can't help but release a small giggle. It's hard to kiss smiling but we manage; our lips and teeth colliding. My hand rises to his neck, my fingers toying with his curls. His large hands hold my face to his, his thumbs placed gently on the edge of my jaw.

"Peeta?" a familiar voice calls, and forces him to break the kiss. Embarrassment rushes through me and I let my gaze drop to the floor, not wanting to see who it is; I release my hold on Peeta, but try to hide behind his broad frame. Jesus Christ, we really need to stop kissing in public. It's getting really awkward. But my thoughts disappear when I suddenly feel his entire body freeze against mine.

"Madge?" Peeta croaks.

My eyes fly up from the floor and land on none other than Madge Undersee. She's wearing a tight black professional skirt with a matching blazer over a navy blue button-up. Shit. I forgot she works at the courthouse as a stenographer.

Instinctively, I bring my hand to the strong muscles of Peeta's stomach. Madge's eyes flick down to it immediately, and I feel a rush of possessiveness. I remember when she came into the office a couple weeks ago and threatened to take him away from me. Well, bitch, he's mine. I win.

"Hello Madge," I say, smiling. Actually smiling. I have to admit, I want to rub this is her face a little bit. I press my body closer to Peeta and he wraps his arm around me again; I almost sigh in relief. I mean, I love proving her wrong, but this is the first time Peeta has seen her since they broke up. And I really wish she didn't still have a hold on him.

"So, you two are together now?" she asks, venom in her tone. She narrows her eyes at me and I open my mouth to tell her off when Peeta speaks.

"Yes, we are. For a while now," he answers quietly, his voice calm.

"She's going to break your heart, Peeta." Her voice is soft and sweet again—and totally fake. To me. "She'll never be able to love you like I do." She reaches her hand out and places it on his bicep. "I'll be here waiting when you finally realize that."

"Your love involved cheating on him, so I think I can do it a little better," I growl. I smack her hand away from _my_ boyfriend. "Just leave, Madge. Run back to Gale, because Peeta doesn't want to be with you ever again." I hope.

Her eyes harden, but she doesn't react like I want her do. She just smiles at Peeta again, who's still weirdly quiet. "I'll see you soon." She raises her hand and grazes her fingertips along his cheek before she leaves, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

When she's turned the corner, I bring my eyes back to Peeta. He looks like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed. He shakes his head, then turns and slips the permit into the mail slot of the door.

I sigh. So much for not ruining an amazing day.

* * *

The park is deserted, oddly enough. Peeta lays down one of the large quilts I brought on a patch of newly green grass and places our picnic basket in the corner. We sit down, each on opposite ends. I have no idea what he's thinking about. He's been completely silent since our run in with bitchface, and I hate it when Peeta's silent. It's never a good thing.

I wish he didn't still care about her. I mean, I know that they only broke up a couple months ago, but ugh. I don't like it. I don't like competing for his affection. I don't think about Gale anymore romantically, and I don't want Peeta to think about Madge. Unless he's planning her death.

And how dare she say those things to him! I will love him better than her—I already have. I would never dream of cheating on him or hurting him in any way. And her little "I'll see you soon" comment just pisses me off. Peeta and I are together. Forever. Always. He's mine.

* * *

_I told Peeta I wouldn't be home tonight—that I was staying at Gale's—so I'm gonna have to creep into the house as quietly as possible. He didn't tell me what he had planned for tonight when he actually has the house to himself for once, but I'm guessing he'll probably be spending it with Madge. And I don't want to ruin that romantic evening, considering how little it is that I leave the house. But Gale and I had got into another, terrible fight and I can't be around him. Rue is enjoying her newly married life so I obviously can't call her, and Prim has officially been in Europe for eight months. So I'm sneaking back into my own house like a burglar and hoping Peeta doesn't realize I'm here until tomorrow._

_The door creaks as I shut it behind me and I mentally curse at it. Peeta's truck is outside, so I know he's home, but the house is dark and silent even though it's only midnight._

_I tip-toe down the hallway and towards my room. It's the first time that I regret and hate the layout of our house, where my room is right across the hall from his. It's not until I'm a good foot away that I see Peeta's door is open and there's a small light emitting from the space and into the hallway._

_I stop in my tracks as panic begins to set it. Damn. How am I supposed to get into my room? Peeta never leaves his door open. Son of a b—_

_"Peeta," a female voice purrs and my thoughts vanish. There's a squeak of bed springs and then a quiet, deep moan. Peeta. _

_Shit! This is literally the worst thing that could happen. I don't want to interrupt them while they're going at it! Especially because it's basically the one thing Peeta avoids when it comes to me. He rarely has Madge stay the night—he always stays over at her place, and it is just not a topic of discussion for us. We don't want to acknowledge the fact that the other one is having sex, though we both know we are._

_The breathing coming from the other room becomes heavier, a moan thrown in every once in a while. I tug on my braid as my brain whirls with all the possibilities of what I could do, but I only come up with sleeping in my car. And Peeta would be upset at himself and me if I did that. But whatever I do, I need to do it soon, because if I stay out here much longer it's going to get_ really _awkward and emotionally scarring._

_I decide to just go for it. I take a step towards my door and quickly peek into his room and hope that Peeta won't see me. Maybe he'll be out of sight from the door or be too distracted with his girlfriend to notice me. But I don't see him—not really. I see her._

_Peeta's muscled back in facing the doorway as he sits on his bed naked—with Madge on top of him, riding him. Thankfully, I can't see anything taboo—no privates. The blankets are bunched up around Peeta's ass and Madge's short body is hidden behind his broad shoulders. But I see her face, her mouth open in pleasure and her eyes closed. Until they open—and lock with mine._

_My hand freezes on the door handle and my stomach clenches at being caught. But Madge doesn't stop what she's doing. She doesn't freeze or scream or cover herself up or shake Peeta and warn him that I'm home. She _smirks_ at me. Her normally kind eyes fill with hatred as they refuse to look away._

_"You're mine," she pants into Peeta's ear, her eyes still on me, challenging me. She digs her nails into his shoulders and licks the shell of his ear._

_"Yes," I hear him pant back, "I am."_

_I turn away from Madge's smug smile and quickly but silently move into my room._

_I crawl into my bed, not even bothering to remove my clothes and pull my covers over my head. I close my eyes and try to will myself asleep, but it doesn't work. The image of Madge's mean eyes and smug smile is imprinted on my eyelids. _

_I shake my head, unable to fathom what the hell just happened. But I come up with nothing. Only the feeling of dread._

* * *

No. She'll never get him back. He's mine.

Mine.

Mine.

_Mine. _

Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm crawling across the blanket and onto Peeta. I straddle his folded legs and take his face in my hands before I crush my lips against his. He kisses me back, but he's hesitant. Fuck that. I snake my tongue into his mouth and slip my hands into his hair, tugging on the roots. He releases a surprised moan before his tongue tentatively touches mine. His hands rise to my lower back, resting just above my ass.

"You're mine," I command against his mouth, my breathing staggered already. I lick back into his mouth, tasting every single inch of it, trying to erase any memory he has of _her_.

I release his hair with one hand and bring it to the front of his cords and pop open the button. I quickly upzip them, and grab him through his boxers before he has the chance to stop me.

He pulls his mouth from mine. "Katniss, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice shocked. I feel him swell in my hands and tighten my grip on him.

"No one is here," I say, kissing his lips again possessively. I slip my hand through the hole in the front and finally touch his bare skin. We groan into each other's mouths. He's smooth and deliciously hard.

I run palm over the head and he hisses, separating our mouths and pressing our foreheads together. I circle his slit with my finger and collect the pre-cum there and bring it to my mouth; I moan at finally having the first taste of him. I look up from his straining erection and meet his gaze. His blue eyes are so dark they're almost back; he looks surprised, and unbelievably hungry.

I release my finger and quickly bring my hand back to him. I tightly wrap my fingers around the base and pump him once slowly, before I set a steady, quick pace.

Peeta's hands grip my waist almost to the point of pain, but I love it. I love that I'm having an effect on him. He's moaning softly and ever so slightly thrusting his hips into my hand. Hopefully he's not thinking about anything else but what I'm doing to him. And what I want to do to him soon.

I bring my lips to his ear, nibbling on the lobe before I whisper, "I can't wait to fuck you with my mouth."

Peeta releases a loud moan before he can stop himself, forgetting that we're in public.

I smile to myself. Well if he likes dirty talk, I think I can give him some more. "Do you know how wet I am for you?" I ask, my voice breathy. I'm pulsing. "And not just now, all the time. Every second of the day I think about having you inside me. Fucking me hard and fast on every surface in our house, in every position. I can't wait to be with you again."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he whispers, cutting me off before I can say any more.

I release my hand from his hair and cover his head just as he comes, twitching in my palm. The tension leaves his body as my hand collects his cum. His arms slide down to rest on my ass as he exhales loudly, pulling his face away from my forehead. I lift palm to my mouth and clean it, relishing in his taste. His shocked expression returns immediately.

I tuck him back into his pants and zip him up again before I crawl back to where I was before I got all crazy possessive. I glance around and see that the park is still empty—so we weren't seen by anyone; I release a sigh of relief.

After a while, he breaks the silence. "Um, what the hell, Katniss?" Peeta's tone is shocked and a little heated. I turn my gaze away from the tall trees and over to him. He's watching me with curious eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You can't just do that and run away from me. Get back over here."

I do what he says, and shift over to him until we're sitting side-by-side. He wraps his arm around me and turns my face so I meet his eyes. He leans in and softly kisses me, the urgency and passion now gone and replaced with love and cherishment.

"I'm yours," he whispers when he pulls away. "Only yours. Always."

I nod my head. "Always."

* * *

We do have a great picnic, laughing and feeding each other and chatting, but there's a tension. Obviously seeing Madge brought up shit in me and in him.

After the leftovers from lunch are put back in the fridge at home, I head to the living room to watch TV. We'll probably order late-night Chinese tonight, so Peeta doesn't have to cook and we can just continue our relaxing day. Or, what was supposed to be relaxing.

"Are we gonna talk about what happened?"

I look away from the sitcom on the screen and up to Peeta. He's standing at the edge of the couch, one hand tucked into his front pocket while the other runs through his curls.

I fold my knees under myself and turn my body in his direction. "You first," I say.

He takes a deep breath. "I enjoyed what happened today, Katniss, there's no doubt about that. But what the hell? You hate PDA, to the point where you don't even like to kiss me in the supermarket, but suddenly after seeing Madge, you give me a handjob in broad daylight in the middle of a park?"

I tug at my braid. "I…," I trail off, at a loss for words, "I don't like her," I finish.

He rolls his eyes. "Well, obviously. I've known that for years. But Katniss, you don't need to worry about her. I'm with you now."

"Just because we're together doesn't mean you've stopped loving her and I hate that!" I shout suddenly. I stand up off the couch and stop my foot like a two-year-old. "I want you to love only me."

"Kitty," he whispers, tilting his head to the side, his eyes filled with love. But I look to the floor. "I don't love her anymore, I told you that. I'm not sure if I ever truly did. I wanted someone to distract me from you." I hear him move towards me, his loud footsteps echoing. I feel his hand on my cheek as he tilts my head up, but I still don't meet his gaze. "I've moved on to the one person I've ever truly loved. And yeah, it stung to see her again and be reminded that once again I've been cheated on by every woman I've ever dated, but I wasn't reminiscing in memories of us together.

"I want to be with you forever. Not Madge. And seeing her just forced me to think about being hurt…by you." I finally meet his gaze, my stomach suddenly filled with lead. "I don't think you will, honestly," he whispers, his blue eyes true. "But if you ever cheated on me…I wouldn't survive, Katniss. I wouldn't love ever again. I wouldn't—"

"I could never hurt you," I tell him, clasping his face in my hands. This conversation is quickly transforming into something else. "I'd rather hurt myself."

He clasps my face too, and we stare at each other, breathing heavily though we've done nothing to cause it.

"I'm sorry I was," I swallow, "jealous." He quirks his eyebrow up at my admission. "But she has this idea that she'll get you back someday and it scares me. Because if anyone could take you from me, it would be her. I mean, you almost proposed to her, Peeta."

He shakes his head. "It was a mistake, and I know I'll never be able to truly make you believe that." He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "You're too stubborn." He smirks at me momentarily before his expression changes, becoming loving and determined. "But I will do everything in my power to prove to you that you are the only person I've ever wanted to be with. For the rest of my life."

My breath vanishes from my lungs. "What are you saying exactly?" I croak. My body begins to tremble.

A gentle smile moves onto his lips, his eyes become glassy. "I'm saying that one day, Katniss Everdeen, I'm going to ask you to marry me."

* * *

**Hello readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and it's minimal sexy time. I know that you are all eagerly waiting for them to do it, and trust me, it'll happen soon. Thanks for reviewing, favoriting and following!**

**Tumblr: _books-are-better_**


	16. Chapter 16

"Peeta…" I trail off, words failing me once again. I'm not like him—I can never find the right things to say. My mind tumbles and I decide on, "we haven't been dating that long."

He barks out a laugh. Not exactly the response I was expecting.

"Katniss, I've been in love with you for almost five years. And I'm not saying I'm going to propose tomorrow, but I want to marry you eventually. I always have."

"But we're so young," I argue.

"We're not that young."

"I hate dresses."

"You're wearing one right now," he points out.

"I'm an angry bitch; you'll get sick of me quickly."

"No, I won't."

"It will end in divorce—most marriages do."

"Ours wouldn't."

"What if you died?" I whisper, swallowing loudly. Just when I thought this day wasn't going to get any worse after Madge showed up, he says he wants to marry me. And now he's forcing me to think about my greatest fear—losing someone I love again.

He freezes, our playful back and forth finished. His face warps with sadness. "Oh, Kitty," he murmurs.

Then he's kissing me. Hard and loving and passionate and gentle. He wraps his arms around my back and squeezes our bodies together so there's no space between us.

All too soon, he pulls his lips away. His sapphire eyes bleed into mine, open and concerned. "I can't promise you that I won't die, Kitty. I'm not a wizard or God or anything. But I would never leave you willingly. I will love you every second of my life and in the afterlife too."

"I don't want to turn into my mother," I whisper as I lift my legs and wrap them around his torso so he's holding me. "And I would if I ever lost you. I can't—I don't even want to think about it."

He slides his hands down my back to my thighs to get a better grip on me before he walks us to the couch and plops himself down so I'm sitting on top of him. He slips his hands under my dress and rests them on top of my underwear.

"I plan on being with you forever. You won't ever lose me."

I lift my hands over my head, needing to end this conversation. Peeta takes the hint and slowly pulls my dress upward. His eyes flick down my body before he brings his gaze back to my eyes, licking his lips. With all this serious talk, I really just want to lose myself in him. And since we still aren't having sex, I think I have an idea of something we can do.

"Let's take a shower," I say, leaning forward to pull off his sweater. After I toss it to the floor he stands up again and takes me with him. He walks us down the hallway and into the blue tiled bathroom. He sets me on the small carpet in front of our shower and quickly discards his jeans and socks. When he's standing in just his boxers he meets my eyes again.

He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me around. His hands deftly unhook my bra and I let it slide down my arms as he moves to my panties, pushing the blue fabric to the floor. When I turn back around, he's kicking his underwear across the room. He's already half-hard, but I don't focus on that, and instead move to the shower and turn on the water, warming it up.

Peeta loves to take long showers, so he was absolutely stoked when we moved in here with this shower. It's huge, big enough for four, and has two showerheads. When the temperature is perfect, I pull Peeta into the tiled space. The water rains down on his head, flattening his messy curls. Fuck, is it just me or do guys look sexier when they're wet?

Peeta unravels my braid before he pulls me into his arm and under his showerhead. He presses his lips to mine, the passion from before back full force.

"God, you're beautiful," he moans into my mouth, his hand slipping across the wet skin of my back to my breasts. He gropes them with his soft hands, rubbing his rough palm on the pebbled peaks. Fuck, it feels good.

"I honestly didn't think it was going to turn into this," I whisper as I grab his firm ass in my small hands. "Not that I'm complaining."

He pulls his face away from mine and gazes down at me; his hands continue their ministrations on my chest, tweaking my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"Katniss, I…" he trails off momentarily, his blue eyes bright. "I can't wait much longer."

My eyes widen at his admission. He's seemed so put together these last two weeks. Sure, he's gotten turned on, but he's been so easily able to turn it off.

"I've been in love with you for years, and now that I have you, I want to make you mine. No, I _need_ to. I need to make love to the woman I love. Every time I see you, I think about how amazing it will be to hold you in my arms and show you just how much you mean to me over and over again until we fall into an exhausted sleep. I just don't want to rush it."

I shake my head. "I don't think we're rushing. Like you said, this has been in the works for five years. But I will wait as long as you think we need to. You've always been good at making decisions, and I trust you with this one. I will be ready to be with you when you want to."

He releases a small chuckle. "I feel like we've swapped the usual gender roles. Isn't the man usually the one who's waiting for the woman?"

I laugh too, reaching for his shampoo on the corner shelf. "Well, we don't really follow the rules, do we?"

"No, we don't." He smiles at me again and my heart flips in my chest.

I squeeze the manly scented shampoo into my palm and bring it to the top of his head. He groans softly as I run my fingers through his wet waves, soaping up every inch of them. I run my nails over his scalp repeatedly and smirk as I see that the action affects other parts of his body.

When I'm done, I pull him back into the stream of water and rinse it out for him, taking my time and playing with his pretty blonde strands. After the water runs clean, he brings his lips down to me. He kisses along my brow ridge, down the side of my face and to my chin. He pulls back with a childlike smile on his face.

He reaches for my shampoo on the shelf next to his, but I shake my head.

"I wanna smell like you," I whisper, pushing the bottle of his shampoo into his hands. "I mean, ideally I would like to get that way by doin' it, but this will suffice." I smirk at him.

He grins at me and chuckles, shaking his head. "You are so romantic."

But he does it anyway, squeezing his shampoo into his hands before moving them to my head. I've always known that Peeta has amazing hands. He's a baker, a painter, and he gives the best massages known to man. But fuck, I never knew that would apply to washing hair. I close my eyes and let him take me to paradise.

I physically jerk when I feel him bring me back under the shower head to rinse, surprised by the sudden change. The hot water soothes me even further. That is, until I feel Peeta's hand move from my hair and slide down my stomach.

But I stop it before he reaches where I want him the most, my eyes flying open.

"I'm sorry, I-I just thought—" he stutters, his confidence wavering.

"No," I cut him off. "Trust me, I want you to touch me more than anything, Peety. But you can't."

His eyebrows furrow and I watch as one water droplet travels down the side of his face. "Why?"

"Because I won't be able to handle it," I explain, bringing his hand away from my stomach to rest on my face. "Peeta, if you touch me, there's no way I could stop. You'd have to take me. I'd have to have you inside me or I would die. You can't tease me like that until you can give me the prize."

His laugh echoes throughout the shower. "My dick is the prize?"

I join in, leaning back against the tile wall. "Being with you is the prize," I clarify.

His laughter fades into a warm, loving smile. "I love you, Katniss. I can't wait until I can show you that."

I nod my head. I can't wait either.

* * *

I throw my clipboard down on my desk and plop myself into my leather chair.

Finnick plows into my room not two seconds later and sits in the seat opposite side of me. He looks just as pissed and tired as I am.

"Is it just me or are people complete dickheads today?" he asks, running his hands through his perfectly coifed bronze locks.

"It's not just you. My last patient sniped at me because her orgasms are short and unsatisfying. I'M TREATING HER BACK PAIN!" I snap, slamming my fists down on my desk.

Finnick quirks his eyebrow up at me, shock igniting his features. "Okay, you're obviously a tad tense."

I grunt and begin to unravel my braid with my fingers. I wish Peeta was here. He can always calm me. I roll my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the stiffness and lean back in my chair.

"You'd think all the tension in your life would be banged out of you considering you and Peeta are still in your honeymoon stage." He smirks.

I freeze. There's no way in hell I'm going to talk to him about my sex life—or lack thereof.

But he must see. "Oh my god, you haven't fucked since that night?!" he shouts. I bend over and collapse on my desk. Shit. "What the hell, Kat?" he continues, "I don't get you."

"We're taking it slow," I mumble, wishing to God I was anywhere else talking about anything else.

"Well that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

I look back up at him and narrow my eyes. "Screw you."

He chuckles to himself. "Well since your night won't be filled with exhaustive sex, you should come out. You, Peeta and I getting some drinks."

I chew on my bottom lip, considering it. It might be fun. Peeta and I haven't really gone out since our picnic in the park a week ago; we've been spending our nights at home watching movies and chatting and cooking together. It's been amazing. Gale and I were always going out to bars and it's nice to stay in. And Peeta looks so cute when he comes home from the bakery with flour on his cheek.

But Peeta kind of hates Finnick. Well, he likes him, but I'm pretty sure the whole "he kissed me once" thing kinda made Finnick not his favorite person in the world.

"I'll talk to Peeta," I finally answer.

Finnick nods his head and stands up. "Awesome. Well I'll be at _The Hob_ no matter what, so if you want to join me, I'll see you around eight."

I give him a small wave and he exits my office, shining me his model smile over his shoulder as he shuts the door.

* * *

"So what do you think?" I ask, stealing a kiss before I move to sit down across from him at the table. But he grabs my arm and pulls me back to him and onto his lap.

"With Finnick?" he questions, feeding me a bite of his asiago cheese bagel.

I nod my head, chewing. He looks down at his plate as his grip on my hip tightens. "It was just a suggestion. We can stay in again tonight. I've been dying for your crème brulee," I say after I swallow.

He shakes his head. "No, it could be fun." But his voice is soft, distant.

"Hey," I call, turning his face to me. "What are you thinking about?"

He releases a deep breath. "Nothing, I just—I don't like that you've kissed him."

I lean down and bury my face in his neck. I kiss along his throat, and I hear a grumble of approval come from his chest. "It was barely anything," I mumble against his skin. "And I came home afterward and crawled into your bed because I wanted _you_."

He pulls away from me instantly. "What?"

I sigh. "Yeah. It was the night I got sick in your bathroom," I admit, weaving my fingers into his curls. I shift my body so I'm straddling his lap.

"The night I almost confessed that it was a mistake not to try to be with you?" His voice is hardening, and I don't like it. Maybe I shouldn't have brought this up.

I press my forehead against his. "Peeta, it's over and we're together now. The kiss meant nothing. I love _you_."

I feel the tension leave his body; his hands slide down my thighs. "I know, I know. It's stupid to be jealous. Obviously you don't want to be with him."

I smile. "No, I don't. And if anyone should be jealous, it should be me. I mean, you're the one with twice as many ex-lovers," I tease.

He groans. "Jesus, that's what I get for getting drunk on whiskey with you." We laugh. "But seriously, none of those girls count. Nothing before you matters."

I tilt my head at him. Way to prove my point. "Exactly."

He pulls my face down and kisses me, caressing my lips with his. I sigh against his mouth, melting into his embrace. God, I love him.

"Okay, let's go out," he says after he pulls away, planting another small kiss on my forehead.

* * *

Peeta shrugs off his jacket and I have to force myself not to jump him; his strong shoulders tighten and ripple with the movement, clearly visible under his white t-shirt. Biting my lip, I slide into the booth next to him and place my hand there instead of my mouth. But I have to touch him.

He glances down at my hand and then up to my face, which I'm sure is flushed with arousal. He lifts his hand and pulls my lip from my teeth. "Kitty, shit, you can't look at me like that right now. We're about to meet your friend."

I nod my head, but I can't help it. He's so sexy.

"Fine. One kiss and then no more. Not until we're home and in our bed," he concedes.

I pounce on his mouth, lifting the hand not on his defined shoulder to his beautiful curls. I'm sure Peeta wanted a short kiss, considering we're in public and all, but he must know by now I have no filter when it comes to him. Or did the handjob in the park not make that clear? Peeta's hand dives into my loose hair and thankfully, he turns my eager kiss wholeheartedly, his tongue sliding and twisting with mine.

"Jesus, guys, are you trying to turn me on? Because if so, you have succeeded."

Regretfully, I pull away from Peeta and look up to the voice. Finnick stands at the edge of the table, looking down at us with a smirk on his face.

"Could you come back in like ten minutes?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

The boys laugh and Peeta lifts his hand from my hair to his shake Finnick's. "Good to see you again, man," Finnick says as he sits down across from us when the handshake is finished.

"You, too," Peeta replies, wiping my chapstick from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I invited my friend Johanna, too—I hope you guys don't mind."

We shake our heads. Not at all. From the stories Finnick has told me about her, she sounds pretty hilarious and epic. It will be awesome to finally meet her.

Quickly, before Johanna arrives or the pissing contest starts, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I avoid remembering the night Peeta and I almost had sex in here and promptly do my business. When I come out of the stall, there's another woman in the bathroom, playing with the short strands of her edgy pixie cut.

"Did you see that sexy blonde the corner booth?" she asks.

I glance around the room, looking for someone else, but it's only the two of us. I guess she's talking to me. I squeeze some soap into my palm and stick my hands under the automatic faucet.

"The one with the sexy curls and blue eyes? I'm gonna get me a slice of that tonight."

I turn my face to her and she turns to me. Her eyes are the color of chocolate and her lips are a deep red. Obviously she's talking about Peeta and I feel a rush of anger roll through me. He's mine.

I finish rinsing my hands and grab a paper towel from the dispenser to dry them.

"Good luck with that," I say, clenching my fists as I exit the bathroom. I make my way back to our booth and slide in next to Peeta again. I see that the waitress came by—Peeta and Finnick both nursing beers.

"I got you a rum and coke," Peeta says as I pick up the glass in front of me.

"Thanks, babe," I reply. I lean over and peck the shell of his ear.

"Hey douche!" a voice calls, and we all look up to find the source. It's the girl from the bathroom, standing at the end of our booth, her eyes locked on Finnick.

"Jo! Come sit," Finnick says, patting the spot next to him.

She sits down next to Finnick and locks eyes with me. She smirks. "We meet again," she purrs at me winking.

"You've met?" Finnick questions, looking back and forth between the two of us.

"Uh, yeah. In the bathroom," I tell him, trying not to growl.

She cackles, loud and a little bit frightening. "Yeah, I saw that you guys were over here and saw her sneak into the bathroom, so I followed," she explains. "I told her I was gonna hit on her boyfriend. You should have seen the rage on her face, Finn. It was classic."

Finnick barks out a laugh, and lifts his beer to his mouth, taking a large gulp. "Jo, you are gonna get yourself slapped. And Katniss would do it, too. You don't get between two soul mates. Trust me, I almost tried."

I narrow my eyes at him, but before I have the chance to speak, Peeta does. "Yeah, you almost did, Finnick. Don't try again."

I turn to Peeta, my eyes wide. His tone was joking, but I can tell he meant it. I hear Finnick laugh uncomfortably and watch as the side of Peeta's mouth turns up in a smile. He turns to me then, his blue eyes questioning.

"Could you not?" I ask, whispering so only he can hear. "I thought we went over this earlier."

"So you can attack me in a public park when you're jealous but I can't even warn him not to touch you again jokingly?" he raises his eyebrows up, challenging me.

I shrug. Okay, he has a point. "I love you?" I say, my voice turning it into an apology and a question.

He nods. "Love you, too."

"Are you two done? Because your love is making me want to throw up," Johanna says, bringing us back to the others at the table.

Peeta's right though. I need to get my jealousy under control. It's getting ridiculous. Peeta is obviously going to attract unwanted females—I mean look at him. He's the epitome of the term "good looking". But he loves _me_. I know that. And I'm not used to being jealous—at least, I was never jealous when I was with Gale. But actually, if I think about it, I've gotten jealous over Peeta a couple times before.

* * *

_I narrow my eyes at her and her stupid blonde extensions. Cashmere has been in this class for two weeks and I hate her. She raises her hand a hundred times a day, she wears the skimpiest skirts and she flirts with every guy—including Peeta. I mean, I know that Peeta is her age, but come on, who flirts with their teacher? Sluts, that's who. _

_Today she's spent the entire class bent over her cooking station, revealing way more of her than I ever wanted to see. What's the point of wearing a denim mini-skirt while you're cooking? More skin means more opportunities to get burned. Moron. I should throw boiling water on her thighs just to prove my point._

_Peeta claps his hands once and brings my attention away from the bane of my existence. He's wearing a grey button-up today with a pair of tan corduroys. His blonde curls are getting a little too long, so he's constantly brushing them out of his eyes. I should tell him to get a haircut._

_We've gotten closer and closer and now I'm actually kind of sad that this class is ending. But obviously, we'll continue to hang out. I need to devour another batch of his cheese buns, and for some reason, he seems to like having me around. It's weird, considering how different we are on the surface, but we get along really well. He's kind and funny and smart; he's a great friend. _

_So I have to keep bitches like Cashmere away from him._

_"That's all for today, everybody. Please take home your cobblers—because I can't eat them all myself, no matter how much I want to." The class chuckles and his lame humor, and I join in. He's so dorky sometimes, but I enjoy it. _

_As everyone begins to shuffle out of the room, Peeta meets my gaze and holds up his finger, indicating he wants me to wait. We always go out after class, sometimes back to his place or mine just to hang out, or to the bar for a drink. I don't know what he has planned for tonight, but I always look forward to our time together. _

_Prim is convinced I have a thing for him. For a smart girl, she really is an idiot sometimes. _

_I quickly shovel my peach cobbler into some Tupperware as I wait for Peeta to finish his teacher duties. But right as I seal the lid, I look up and see_ her_ walking up to him. _

_"Hey Cashmere, what can I do for ya?" he asks, barely glancing up from the papers he's rifling through._

_"Peeta, I just wanted to say that you're a really great teacher," she whispers, bending closer to him, forcing her boobs to peak out of her low-cut canary yellow top. _

_"Thank you, that means a lot," he tells her, still not aware of her obvious flirting. "I try really hard to make sure you all are having a good time and learning techniques you will be able to use for the rest of your life."_

_She nods her head and bites her lip. "And it doesn't hurt that you're easy on the eyes, too," she practically moans. _

_Peeta finally looks up to her as white hot rage washes through me. Does she honestly think that she's good enough for him? Peeta is the epitome of good, and she is nothing but a fake Barbie who'll spread her legs for anyone. Peeta has class. Peeta is kind. Peeta is too handsome for her. Peeta doesn't just want a slut, he wants a woman—the opposite of her. _

_I'm marching over to the two of them before I've made the conscious decision to do so. Peeta's eyes flash to me quickly before returning to Cashmere. _

_I move around to Peeta's side of the cooking station and place my hand on his bicep. It's actually quite firm. I've never felt it before. _

_"Are you ready to go?" I ask, leaning towards him. His eyebrows disappear under his hair, his eyes watching me quizzically. No. He can't do that. Cashmere has to believe that we're together or she'll never leave him alone and I'll explode with anger. He can't look like this is weird; he has to be into it. So I try harder. "Oh, sweetie, you have a little flour on your cheek." I lick my thumb and run it across his left cheekbone, removing the invisible flour._

_The confused look fades from his face and he smiles widely, finally understanding. He nods his head. "Yeah, baby, I'm finished. I was thinking a romantic dinner by candlelight tonight, sound good?" He leans forward and pecks my cheek._

_Heat rushes to my face. Peeta just kissed me. "Um, yeah," I stutter, my head reeling. "Sounds perfect."_

_I finally look over at Cashmere. She's shaking with rage, her claws digging into the wood of the cooking station. _

_"Hi, Cashmere," I say, my voice high and smug. _

_She doesn't respond; she just turns around and sways out of the room, moving her hips way more than necessary. _

_"Thank you," Peeta says, bringing me back to him. I glance up and see his blue eyes dancing with amusement. "I wasn't sure how I was going to turn her down."_

_"You're welcome," I whisper. I realize his hand is on my lower back. It's large and warm, flexing in to my skin and causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. _

_"What made you do it?" he asks, lifting his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I flush again. Jesus, why do I keep doing that? It's just Peeta. _

_I shake my head, all sense of the English language gone from my brain. "I'm not sure. I just didn't think you'd want her."_

_"I don't. Not her."_

_His eyes are locked onto mine and his big hand hasn't moved an inch. And for some reason, I don't want him to move away._

* * *

I shift closer to Peeta on the leather cushion. He moves the arm he has on the back of the booth to my shoulders and I place my hand on his knee. He's mine now, and I don't need to worry about losing him. He just said last week that he wants to marry me. He's in it for the long haul. And so am I.

"So, Katniss, how's the sex?" Johanna asks, bringing me back into the conversation.

My drink freezes half-way to my mouth. "Um, fine," I tell her before taking a sip. I don't know this girl. I'm not gonna talk to her about my sex life.

"Just ignore her, Kat," Finnick says, messing up Johanna's hair with his big hand. "She has no filter."

The rest of the night passes like that. Johanna making inappropriate comments, Finnick laughing and chastising her and Peeta and I enjoying the conversation. We part ways with a promise to do it again soon.

When we are back at home and getting into his bed, I find myself clinging to Peeta more than normal. And he notices.

"What's going on in that beautiful brain of yours?" he asks as I position my head on his shoulder.

"I just love you," I tell him. Which is the truth. I love him more than anything. And through death or jealousy or cheating—I can't lose him.

"I love you, too, Kitty." He runs his hand down my bare side and I shiver against him, tightening my grip. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He can read me like a book.


	17. Chapter 17

I wake up to the scent of crackling bacon. I'm already smiling by the time I open my eyes. Peeta loves cooking breakfast on Saturdays, and though I hate waking up without him next to me, I can make an exception if he's cooking me food.

I crawl out of his bed wearing only his shirt and shuffle my way into the kitchen. He's standing in front of the stove in his boxers and an apron. He has to be the sexiest man in the world. His back muscles twitch with every subtle movement he makes and I'm drooling—not just for the food.

I cross over to him and plant a good morning kiss on his shoulder. He turns around instantly, his perfect teeth blinding me with his smile.

"Good morning, love," he says, leaning down to capture my lips briefly; he tastes like mint from his toothpaste, and I instantly feel self-conscious about my morning breath.

I look down and see he's in the process of making homemade hash browns, scrambled eggs and bacon. And I can see a loaf of his bread resting on the cutting board by the toaster, several slices ready to be popped in.

I kiss his nose once before I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and do my business. When I come back several minutes later, he's leaning against the counter, waiting for me with a mischievous smile.

"You're never gonna guess what just happened," he says, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

I furrow my eyebrows. What could have happened in the five minutes it took me to pee and floss? "What?"

He raises my phone. Okay, now I'm definitely confused. "I answered it accidently," he explains, "You know, considering we have the same phone and all. And it was Finnick."

"And?"

"Well first of all, he said he wasn't surprised that I answered and that I should hurry up and bone you." I palm my forehead. I'm seriously gonna kill him. No. Worse than that. I'm gonna chop his junk off. "And second, he was calling to remind you about your company party tonight."

I groan loudly. "Fuck, I wanted to forget about that."

He moves closer to me and runs his thumb along my cheek. "Were you ever going to invite me?"

I stand on my tippie-toes and clasp his handsome face in my hands. "Of course, baby. I was just trying to avoid it entirely." I smirk. "But if I'm going to survive it at all, I'm gonna need my man-candy on my arm."

He smiles down at me. "I will be your man-candy any day of the week."

I laugh, shaking my head. But then I grow serious. "You know this is kinda a big deal, right? The founder is gonna be there and we have to dress fancy and drink with our pinkies sticking out and everything."

His thumb runs along my cheek again, now soothing instead of sensual. "Are you nervous?"

I nod my head, anxiety filling my veins. "Finnick might have sounded chill on the phone, but this is the first time something like this has happened. The CEO and CFO are gonna be there and all of the other higher ups and I'm gonna be under a magnifying glass."

"Kitty, you do your job fantastically and you rarely miss any work and you never come in late. There's no need for you to be worried," he says, and I start to relax almost immediately. He has that effect on me. "But I'll be by your side the whole night, just in case you need me."

I pull his face down to mine and press our foreheads together. "I always need you," I whisper.

"Then I'll always be here."

* * *

I almost forgot what Peeta looked like in a tux. He hasn't worn one since the night I attended that dinner with him to get funding for his class, but that tux was rented. This one, from the back of his closet, was perfectly tailored for him. His two button jacket wraps perfectly over his crisp white button-up and his cute little black bow-tie. His pants fit perfectly, and hug his ass deliciously; I can't wait to slip my hand into his back pocket. And his black shoes are so shiny I could probably see my face in them.

I peek at him once more through a crack in my door as he stands in the living room, then quickly close it and move to my closet. Taking a deep breath, I reach into the back of my closet and pull out the dress I've never worn. One of the most precious things I own. The last thing my mother gave me.

* * *

_"Don't leave me."_

_Peeta takes my face in his hands, halting our steps towards the gravesite. "Hey hey hey," he coos, his thumbs running up and down my cheeks. "I'm not gonna leave you. Not even for a second. I'll be by your side the whole time."_

_My heels are sinking into the wet dirt, but I don't care. My dad is dead. Dirtying my heels is the last fucking thing that matters. I nod in Peeta's grasp. But that's not exactly what I meant. I don't want him to leave me today, that's for sure, but I can't ever lose him. I won't survive if he leaves me._

_"Come on," he whispers, moving his hands from my face to clasp my hand instead. He pulls me closer to the gathering of people around my father's grave. I didn't want a big funeral, but my father was so loved, so many people who wanted to say goodbye, so I had to. There are at least forty people already and it's still ten minutes until the service is supposed to begin._

_My mother with her now dead eyes and my sister with her beautiful blonde hair in two braids are standing near the gravestone; Peeta and I head towards them._

_Peeta kisses Prim's cheek and hugs my mother with one arm, his hand still holding tightly onto mine. When the greetings are over, he pulls me to his side, shifting his hand from mine to wrap around my shoulders; I don't hesitate slipping mine the back pocket of his suit._

_I look up from the ground and to the people that surround my father's coffin. They're all watching me with pity in their eyes; I immediately turn away. _

_"Thank you all for coming," the priest says stepping in front of everyone. "John Everdeen was a wonderful man, there's no doubt about that. He was kind and giving and hard-working. He was always cracking jokes and putting everyone around him at ease. He was smart, witty and was always there to help a friend in need. He loved his family with all his heart and doted on his wife and two beautiful daughters."_

_I can't hear anymore. My ears are filled with cotton and my mouth is dry; my mind is numb and my heart is dead. Peeta's hand is suddenly on the back of my head and he's pressing my head to his chest, the other trailing down my arm to intertwine our hands. I'm sobbing again. I can't stop. I don't know if I want to. _

_My dad is dead. Dead. Gone forever. Never to be seen again._

_I squeeze my eyes, trying to will it all away. The funeral, the people, the priest, the death, everything. But I can't. Peeta's lips press to the top of my head and the weight is lifted off my chest just a little bit. I'd never will away Peeta. He's the only thing right now keeping me from crumbling, both literally and metaphorically. I slide my hand out of his pocket and to the strong muscles of his back. I need to feel his strength. Maybe it will make me stronger._

_I don't know how long we stand there, me crying into his shirt, the silk of his tie caressing my rough cheek, but I can't seem to do anything else but weep and cling onto him like my life depends on it. After a while, I hear Peeta whisper something, the soft grumble of his chest against my ear, but it's not to me. He knows I can't answer._

_Then both of his arms are around me, squeezing my body to his. He leans down, shifting my head so my face rests in the crook of his neck; his skin is warm and soft and smells like laundry detergent._

_When my ankles start to shake from standing and my tears have dried for the most part, I pull my face away from Peeta. I meet his gaze and I feel a little bit better. He's not looking at me with pity like the others were, only concern. _

_"Where's everyone?" I croak, looking around. My father's coffin is submerged in the ground, dirt now covering it, and Peeta and I are the only ones in the cemetery. _

_He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and then lets his thumb caress my cheek. "They all left. The service is over."_

_I shake my head, guilt taking over, the tears pricking behind my eyes again. "I should have done something—said a eulogy or—" I break off, choking slightly._

_He kisses my forehead again. "You only had to do exactly what you did, Katniss. This is your grief—not anyone else's." His voice is powerful and true; but then he softens, relaxes. "You don't need to be strong all the time."_

_I nod my head and try to believe his words. I'm so used to taking care of myself. But like Peeta said the first day we met—there's nothing wrong with accepting a little help sometimes. _

_"Can we go?" I ask._

_He nods and goes to move, but I stop him. Raising my hand, I press it to his cheek. His face is stubbly and rough, but it feels nice against the pads of my fingers. He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. _

_"Thank you," I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest. "For being here."_

_He releases a shaky breath. "I don't wanna be anywhere else but next to you."_

_And with that he takes my hand and we walk back to his truck. _

_The drive to my house is quiet, but warm. Peeta holds my hand and I squeeze it every time I feel an overwhelming rush of sadness—which is often. There's supposed to be a reception at my parent's house, but I don't want to be a part of it. I just want to crawl under the covers and forget about everything for an hour or two. _

_But when we get back to the house, there's not a single car in the driveway or on the street. It's deserted. Peeta parks by our mailbox and we exit the car and head up the steps. The house is silent, so I head towards my mother's room; Peeta veers off to the kitchen with a final squeeze of my hand._

_"Mom?" I call as I step through the threshold. The room hasn't changed a bit since my childhood. The bed just big enough for the two of them rests against the southern wall, the blankets perfectly tucked in, with the same large mirror above the headboard. The stained glass lamp rests in the corner next to it, collecting dust. Across the room is the largest closet known to man, clothes spilling out. My mother stands in front of it._

_"Come here, baby girl," she whispers, her voice almost wistful. When I'm a few feet away, she turns. Elegantly draped in her arms is a dress, a deep shade of plum. She extends it to me._

_"What is this?" I ask, confusion filling me. I'm not exactly sure this is the time to be exchanging dresses._

_"Your father bought it for me on our first anniversary. I want you to have it." She places it in my arms, a soft smile on her lips. The silky fabric slips along my arm, feather light and cool. _

_"Mom…" I trail off, at a loss for words. She cherishes everything my father gives her. We never had a lot of spare money, but my father always found a way to give my mother little trinkets—and she protected them with her life. But to give away her most expensive gift…I can't even comprehend it. _

_"Be good, Katniss," she says, her face morphing back into sadness. "Take care of yourself and of this dress. And Peeta too—take care and protect each other." _

_I nod my head, barely understanding anything she's said. But I'll do what she tells me. She's the last parent I have, and even though we've never had a strong relationship, I'll need her now more than ever. _

_Not long after she gives me the dress, Peeta and I decide to go home. We've stayed here for almost a week, and unfortunately, it's time to get back to the real world. Peeta's already taken off too much work and I'd feel extremely guilty if he got fired. _

_I give my mother a hug and my sister a kiss on the cheek and Peeta does the same before we pile our bags into his truck and hit the road._

_"That dress is beautiful, Kitty," Peeta whispers as I lean against his shoulder. I haven't set it down for second—still resting delicately in my arms. _

_I nod my head. I just wish I received the gift in better circumstances. And that it didn't feel like a goodbye._

* * *

The sleek fabric flutters over my skin as I step into it. The deep v-neck clinches my chest just so, revealing the sides of breasts; it hugs my stomach and hips, then flares out over my legs and flows to the ground. It's perfect. I slip into the one pair of black stilettos I own and take my hair out of my braid so it hangs in soft waves around my shoulders.

I take another deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and head out to meet Peeta.

He turns his head when he hears the creak of my door and I try not to blush at the way he looks at me as I walk towards him.

"You are…," he starts, but he doesn't finish his sentence. He just exhales, his face lighting up. I tentatively smile back.

"You, too."

He leans down and kisses me once, not nearly long enough but I take what I can get and breathe in his soothing scent of vanilla and musk.

"Is that the dress…?" he asks when he pulls away.

I nod. Of course he remembers. Peeta remembers everything.

He runs his hands down my sides, his touch setting me alight. "Ready to go?" His eyes are blue flames, sucking me in. I nod my head again and he wraps his arm around me as we head towards the front door.

By the time we get to the Nightlock Ballroom, the event seems to be in full swing. Our branch of _Cornucopia Alternative Health_ was the twelfth in the state, and this whole thing is happening because they are officially announcing the opening of a thirteenth. And it's also supposed to be a time for the CEO and CFO to meet the people who work at the most successful branch of _CAH_—which is ours. But I still don't like being in the spotlight, even if it's for a pat on the back.

Peeta rests his hand on my lower back as we step into the room, scanning for a familiar face. And we do almost immediately.

"Katniss, you look breathtaking! That dress is fabulous," Cinna compliments, diving in to kiss me on the cheek; I kiss his back in response. He turns his face to Peeta when he leans back. "Peeta, it's so good to see you again. I was so happy to hear you two finally got together."

Peeta beams at Cinna as he shakes his hand. "It's good to see you, too. And believe me, I was happy as well." He lets out a chuckle, his hand flexing into my back slightly.

Cinna joins in, his deep laugh warm and friendly. "Well, I have to make the rounds. You two have a great night."

We say our farewells to him and continue into the room to find the table that's designated for our area office. Of course, when we finally get to the front, we find none other than Finnick, leaning back in his hair and chewing on a pink straw from his obviously booze-filled glass.

"Jesus, Katniss, where have you been hiding your rack all your life?" he quips, his speech slurred. God, he's already drunk. That can't be good.

I instantly feel the need to cover my chest, but Peeta pipes in and eliminates it. "Obviously she was waiting to be with someone who was worthy to reveal it to." He pulls out my chair for me and I sit down. "And I fit that role." He unbuttons his jacket and sits down next to me, slipping his arm around the back of my wooden chair.

Finnick tilts his head back and laughs. "Good point," he says, through the laughter.

Peeta's mouth is suddenly by my ear, his hot breath causing shivers to erupt over my skin. "Am I allowed to kiss you here?" he whispers, his lips touching the lobe. "Because I really need to."

I shake my head. "Let the anticipation build, love," I say, reaching out to set my hand on his thigh, rubbing it soothingly.

He pulls away instantly, but scooches his chair closer to mine.

Peeta and Finnick slip seamlessly into a conversation about food or something, but I barely pay attention. I just focus on the gentle, soothing circles Peeta's fingers are drawing on my bare shoulder and try to calm my nerves. Finnick told me last week that the heads of the company were planning to stop by and have a chat with us and I'm nervous to say the least. I don't like being under a magnifying glass.

"What about you, Katniss?" Finnick asks, bringing me into the conversation.

I nod my head. "I agree with Peeta. They are completely overrated."

Finnick rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his glass full of brown liquid. "Of course you do."

I turn my face to Peeta and watch as he shines me a smile of approval. I want nothing more than to bury my face in his neck and forget where I am, but I can't. So I just smile back and lift my left hand to tenderly caress his cheek once before I place it back on my lap.

"Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen?" a voice asks. I turn in my seat to find out who it is. A large man with a rounded stomach and a scruffy beard stands at my side, staring down at me with a large smile and kind, green eyes. Next to him is a woman with harsh features and black hair, cut angularly against her face. Finnick and I rise together and reach out to shake their hands.

"Hello, I'm Plutarch Heavensbee and this is Alma Coin," the man says, his voice soft and masculine. They're CFO and CEO, in succession. "It's wonderful to finally meet you two."

I smile as warm as I can, fighting the nerves. The two of them sit down on chairs between Finnick and I; Plutarch turns to me. "And who is this?" He glances over my shoulder briefly.

Peeta's hand not on my chair reaches towards him and they too shake. "I'm Peeta Mellark, sir. Katniss's boyfriend."

Plutarch's eyes shine. "That's fantastic. You make a lovely couple—how long have you been together?"

"Almost five years," I say, now grinning ear to ear. Peeta will like that.

I glance at him briefly, and watch his eyes suddenly blaze with something I can't identify, something strong that makes my heart flutter—but my desire to ask him what he's thinking is forgotten when I hear a Plutarch chuckling softly.

"Wow, that's incredible," Plutarch says, smiling too. I think I'm going to like this guy. But then he clears his throat, preparing to say something big, and I immediately stiffen. "Katniss, I was hoping we could have a little chat. Would you like to do it privately or have Mr. Mellark here with you?"

I swallow audibly. "Peeta can stay," I whisper. Jesus, I knew this was going to happen. I glance around the table and see that Alma Coin and Finnick have disappeared and I didn't even notice it. I turn back to Plutarch and focus on him; Peeta's hand squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.

Plutarch nods. "Katniss, we want to give you a raise."

Well, I did not see that coming.

He continues, "We've seen how hard you work, Katniss—that's obvious by the number of clients you have and their positive customer surveys. With this new branch we're opening, we looked around at the other branches to see where we should reward budget wise, and yours was obvious—you in particular. Do you accept?"

My mouth drops open as I fumble for words. "Uh, yes. Yes, of course."

He grins. "Excellent. We want to siphon more money into your herb therapy and to Finnick's pool therapy. We want to expand them. You two are the reason your branch is successful." He reaches his hand out again. "Congratulations."

I grip it as hard as I can, now grinning. "Thank you so much," I tell him honestly.

He nods and stands up, ending our handshake. "You are so very welcome, Miss Everdeen. Keep up the good work."

And then he leaves. Peeta spins me around in my chair and clasps my face in his hands. "I told you, love. You are amazing."

I roll my eyes, but my smile won't fade. "I can't believe it."

"I can."

I want to kiss him so bad, but I don't. I just squeeze his thigh.

Finnick joins us again with a smile just as big as mine; he raises his hand automatically. I smack it as hard as I can, a giggle escaping me.

"We are the shit, Everdeen," he says, and then tosses back the rest of his drink.

"Agreed."

* * *

When we get home, I'm still bubbling. That was the last thing I thought was going to happen. I thought we'd literally get a pat on the back. But no. Here's a raise and more money for your department. How awesome is that?

I move to the kitchen to grab a snack as Peeta heads to the bathroom. The food was good, but it was all appetizers and I'm still hungry. I pull off my heels and drop them on the tile floor and snatch one of the homemade croissants from the bread box.

I'm wiping the crumbs from my lips when Peeta enters the room. His suit jacket has disappeared, and his bowtie is unraveled and hanging loosely around his neck; his shoes and socks are gone too.

"I want to," he whispers.

I furrow my eyebrows. What is he talking about?

"I'm ready, Katniss."

I feel my jaw drop, shock and pleasure rippling through me. He's ready. Oh my god, he's ready.

He crosses the room slowly, unbuttoning his shirt as he does it. He raises his hands and sets them on my neck when he reaches me.

"You told him that we've been together for five years," he says softly, his voice full of emotion. I nod my head, afraid to speak and change his mind somehow. "Do you have any idea how much that meant to me?"

"It's true," I croak, finding my voice. "Basically."

"I've loved you every second for the last five years, Katniss. And tonight, you acknowledged that to the world. To yourself. To me. And I'm done waiting to claim you over some fear that you'll leave me, because you aren't going to. I know that now with certainty. We are forever."

"Always," I respond, lifting my hand to rest it on his warm, bare chest—pushing aside his open shirt.

We meet in the middle. I stand on my toes, weaving the hand not on his chest into his beautiful hair as I kiss him with everything I have. He's the one. He's my other half. And I will never stop loving him for as long as I live.

Peeta breaks the kiss momentarily to pick me up, cradling me in his arms; I attack his mouth again as soon as he starts walking. He carries me down the hall, and I open my eyes briefly to see him veer off to my room; he kicks open the slightly ajar door and sets me down next to the haphazardly made bed.

"Five months ago we were in this exact same position," he says, shrugging off his shirt. I help him, trailing my hands down his smooth, pale skin. I work on his pants next, unbuttoning and unzipping them, then pulling them down to the floor; he kicks them away so he stands in front of me in just his navy boxer briefs. I can see that he's aroused, his cock already straining against the fabric of his underwear. "And now," he continues, "I know that you love me just as much as I loved you then."

I nod my head. I do.

He places his big right hand on my cheek and kisses me again, while his other hand moves to my back zipper. I run my fingers back and forth across his exposed hip, swirling my tongue in sync with his.

He pulls away all too soon, but meets my eyes as he slowly opens my dress and lets it fall down to the floor in a pile of silk. He glances down at my bare chest then up to my eyes again. A growl comes from the back of his throat and he pushes me down on the bed and quickly positions the two of us in the middle of it, situating himself between my thighs.

He kisses me again, this time with fervor, pressing our bare chests together; my nipples pebble against his soft skin and I moan into his talented mouth.

His hands are suddenly pulling at my underwear, so hard he rips them off my body. I moan again. Fuck, that's hot. He tosses the torn fabric off the bed and I work at his boxer briefs, pushing them, then kicking them down his strong thighs and off.

Once we're naked, Peeta stops his frantic, passionate movements. Everything becomes soft and sensual. His hands glide along my bare skin, caressing anything and everything. He kisses up and down my neck, taking his time, his tongue slipping out to suck on my pulse point.

"I don't know how long I'm going to last," he whispers, his tongue now running along the shell of my ear. "I've done nothing but imagined doing this for the last five months."

I pant into his hair, my nails digging into his back. "I don't care. I just wanna be with you."

He pulls away suddenly and gazes down at me with those eyes that destroy my soul. His thumb runs over my nipple slowly as he stares at me with so much love I can barely stand it.

"I love you, Peeta." I tell him.

"I love you," he whispers back. "I will always love you."

His hands slip down my stomach and he leans back so he's kneeling on the bed. His cock is hard and straight, completely ready. He spreads my thighs open wider.

"Are you sure you don't want me to put on a condom?" he asks as his thumb begins to circle my bundle of nerves agonizingly slow; my insides clench in response, eager to be filled by him.

I nod my head impatiently. "I'm sure, Peeta. Only you."

His eyes blaze with desire and love. He shifts his hand away from my clit and down my side until he's cupping my ass. He squeezes the fleshly globes in his massive hands, and then slowly, he slides into me.

And I am home.

A choke-whine escapes from Peeta's throat when his hips are flush with mine, and I don't think I've ever heard anything sexier in my whole life. He's buried as deep as he can go, but I want him deeper. I want him to become a part of me.

He pulls out almost entirely, leaving in just the tip, and then he surges forward and I mewl in approval, my back arching. He's even bigger than I remember, but the slight uncomfortable twinge is perfection and reminds me that I haven't been filled by anyone since our first time together—which makes it the best kind of pain. Slowly he repeats the motion, and together we watch him slip in and out of me. There's no better thing than the sight of our bodies joining and I'm more aroused than I ever thought possible—my insides constantly and uncontrollably clenching around him.

"You're so wet, Katniss," Peeta moans as he moves his hands from my backside to my breasts. He squeezes them, pinching my nipples and I wrap my legs around his hips to show my pleasure. I'm already so close to exploding and barely any time has passed.

"For you, Peeta," I pant, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I watch the sweat form on this Adonis of a man who's making love to me. "Only for you."

He releases another whine and increases his pace. I roll my hips against his and watch as Peeta's eyes flutter shut. His cock is long and thick, stretching my walls in the best way possible. I've never felt as good as I do right now, pulsing and vibrating with the pleasure he gives me.

He leans forwards slightly, rubbing the spot inside me that forces a moan out of my throat. His eyes fly open again, locking with mine. His hungry stare is mixed with so much love—it pushes me even closer to the edge. He pinches my nipples gently with his thumb and forefinger, then harder until I'm gasping and clenching around him in response. He whines again.

Knowing Peeta, he wants to make this last as long as possible, but the way he's gritting his jaw and the tension his abs shows he's about to erupt.

"Do it, Peeta," I tell him, nodding my head.

He gives a quick shake of his head, his face reddening. "After you," he rasps out. He immediately moves one of his hands from my breasts and begins to circle my clit furiously.

I lift my hands and rest them on the firm skin of his chest. I'm so close, pleasure coiling deep in the pit of my stomach, and I know his orgasm will set mine off. "I'm there, Peeta. Come."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, his hips crash into mine painfully and he comes, groaning my name, his liquid filling me up. It unravels me, and I go silky around him, my insides clenching and milking his rigid pole as my orgasm crashes into me harder than before; I shout his name, digging my nails into his pecs.

He collapses on top of me, crushing me with his weight—and I love it. I wrap myself around him and squeeze his sweaty body. Our chests heave as one, our skin stuck together.

"Did that live up to your fantasy?" I pant, chuckling into his hair.

I feel his lips press to my collarbone.

"Better."

* * *

**IT HAPPENED! I know you guys have wanted that to happen for a long time, and it finally did! Did it live up to your expectations? Let me know! Thanks again for following, reviewing and favoriting!**

**Tumblr: ****_books-are-better_**


	18. Chapter 18

We haven't stopped. And I'm exhausted, but I can't get enough. I don't want to stop. Five months of loving someone and not being able to show it to them physically has piled up, and we are making up for that lost time.

He's an animal. Never sated. Able to go again and again, with little break in between.

Peeta shifts my leg onto his shoulder as he pistons himself into me, slow and methodical. I think that's why I'm not sore yet. Every time he's been slow and loving, taking his time and drawing it out. His touches linger—not grope; his kisses sweet—not hurried. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm used to it being hard and quick—Gale liked it that way. So I grew to like it to. He taught me sex, showed me the ropes. I'd only been with one other guy before him and it was just once at an archery meet. But Gale trained me carefully and considerately to his needs—which was fast and hard.

But not Peeta.

He's caring and unrushed. No matter what he's doing, I know that he loves me more than anything. His whispers of affection, his soft nibbles, the way he lavishes my breasts with his tongue, worshiping them. And I love it. He makes me feel beautiful and wanted and pleasure-filled with every touch.

"I'm gonna come," he whimpers against my mouth, and I dig my heel into his delicious backside for encouragement. With two more thrusts, he stills, moaning into my mouth as I feel him finish inside me again.

He drops down on the bed beside me and pulls me into his arms. I place my head on his chest and let my hand run down his sweaty stomach.

He releases a shaky breath; I think he's finally wore himself out. I glance at the clock: 4:54 a.m. Wow. We've been making love for almost six hours.

"How are you feeling?" he pants, trying to catch his breath.

I press a kiss to his nipple, chuckling softly. "Thoroughly fucked."

He barks out a laugh. "God, I love you."

I shift my head to meet his blue eyes, sparkling in the moonlight. The feeling is very mutual. He leans in to give me a small kiss, but it ignites my blood and I'm ready to go again.

He's made me come more times than I can count tonight and there's nothing better than finishing with him inside me. And speaking of inside me, I was super confused on how this was gonna be, but I have to say, I like the slickness that's been on my thighs for the last six hours. Plus, Peeta was pleased when I told him I didn't want to go to the bathroom to wash myself off; it's what kick-started round two.

But I go against my body's wishes and pull away. "We should probably go to bed," I complain, whining slightly.

He nods his head. Then a mischievous grin takes over his lips. "There's always tomorrow."

* * *

When I roll over, shielding my eyes from the sunlight, I accidently kick out. Peeta sits up violently, startling me awake, officially.

"Fuck," he shouts, his hand falling onto his lap, cupping himself through the thin sheet.

Of course. The night after we have sex for basically the first time, I kick him in the balls.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I move closer to him, wrapping my naked body around his side. I kiss his shoulder, and watch his chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathes through the pain be must be feeling.

"It's fine," he barely squeaks out. I glance up to his face, contorted with discomfort. I trail my fingers across his jaw line, hoping to distract him from the pain I accidently inflicted. It doesn't really work. So I take my fingers away and replace them with my mouth. I kiss along his jaw line, then down the pale, delicious skin of his neck, licking the strained tendons.

"You taste so good," I moan against his skin, sliding my hand down his muscled back, remembering how good last night was. He mumbles in appreciation and I feel the tension begin to leave his body. So I continue, "I feel hollow without you inside me."

"Fuck," he growls again—but now it has nothing to do with pain.

I plant kisses all over his broad shoulder and his beautifully defined collarbone. When I start to kiss down his chest, I'm pulled away.

"Lay down." His voice is commanding and husky with lust, and I automatically do what he says; I fall down on the bed, my head landing on one of the pillows. He rolls onto his knees, letting the sheet fall away from his body; I glance down and see that he's already half hard. His voice brings my eyes back to his. "I wanted to see you in the daylight," he explains as he kneels next to my naked form.

"And?" I ask, my breath vanishing from my lungs.

His eyes rake down my naked body, hungry and greedy and loving. Then his hand falls to his lap again—but this time not because of pain. He wraps his hand around his growing cock, and begins to pumping it slow and steady, his grip tight.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Katniss," he whispers.

Holy shit. I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my life. And I know for certain I've never seen anything so erotic and sexy. My limbs turn into jello and wetness pools between my thighs immediately as I watch him touch himself—because of me.

"Peeta," I beg. That's all I have to say. Peeta lets go of himself and pulls me into his arms, kissing me hard and passionately, sucking my tongue into his mouth.

It's only a matter of seconds before my legs are spread open for him and he's buried deep inside me.

* * *

"We actually do need to do things today," I say as I slip out of bed before he ropes me in for round two—even though there's nothing more I'd rather do.

Peeta rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, fully exposed and unashamed. "Like what?"

"Just a few errands. Grocery shopping, bookstore—and you wanted to stop by the bakery, remember?" I slip on a fresh pair of underwear, bra and one of Peeta's shirts I have in my closet. Smelling like his soap, I turn around and braid my hair. He's made no move to get out of bed.

"I think all that stuff can wait until tomorrow," he says, a naughty smile moving onto his lips.

I roll my eyes. "How are you still able to even get an erection? You came seven times in succession last night." It's mind-boggling. Gale was always one and done, and I was left eager for round two.

"You counted?"

"Well I was shocked, so yeah, I kept track," I admit.

He chuckles to himself. Then he grows serious. "I just couldn't bear the thought of not being as close to you as possible."

My stomach drops, filled with butterflies, and I crawl back onto the bed to him. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, trying to convey my love to him. He kisses me back, tender.

"I'm not gonna change my mind," I whisper once I pull away. His gaze drops to the mattress. "I'm not going anywhere, remember? It's you and me, always."

"I know," he murmurs. "It's just taking me a while to believe it."

I smack his bare butt playfully, trying to lighten to the mood. "Believe it."

He laughs as he moves in for another kiss, but I cut it off quickly and jump off the bed again. This time, Peeta follows, walking past me and out the door, off to the bathroom still gloriously naked.

I slip into a pair of jeans, but keep on Peeta's shirt. I know it's too big and it will be obvious that it's his when we go out in public, but I don't want to take it off. I can't explain it, but I just—don't. I head to the kitchen and grab a cinnamon muffin from the breadbox. Peeta made them last week and they are pure heaven, so moist and full of brown sugar. I wish I could make something for Peeta while he's in the shower, but I can't cook to save my life, so I slice some of his bread and slip it into the toaster and then head to the fridge to get some strawberry jam that Peeta made last summer.

Peeta enters the kitchen just as I've finished smearing the jam on his delicious bread. I hand him a plate with two slices as he leans down to peck my forehead; he whispers a thank you against my skin. He pulls me towards the dining room and down onto his lap before he takes the first bite. I watch his jaw tick as he chews; his eyes staring out the large window, his hand running up and down my thigh unconsciously—like a habit. And I like it. I like that we've gotten to the point in our relationship where touches aren't always new, but constant and inevitable.

"Did you eat something, love?" he asks after he's swallowed.

I nod my head. He nods back and takes another bite, his eyes moving back to the window.

Life is so simple with Peeta. Being with him is, anyway. It isn't rushed or forced or awkward. It's fluid and passionate and perfect.

I sit on Peeta's lap, running my fingers through his damp hair as he finishes his breakfast, relishing in the warmth of his body. Spring is rapidly approaching, but not fast enough for me. I want to be outside, but not be soaked in the process.

Peeta washes his plate and grabs his keys and wallet while I sling my bag over my shoulder. Then hand in hand, we head towards the car.

The grocery store is empty—which is never good. Not with Peeta. His eyes light up when he looks at me, a playful smile working its way onto his face.

Shit.

He's kissing me in the frozen food aisle before I can even protest. Jesus, him and his PDA! But go along with the charade, only for a moment, before I push him back, a smile on my lips. I turn around and head in the opposite direction, but he comes up behind me, wrapping his strong arms around my stomach and pressing his front to my back.

"What is with you and grocery stores?" I giggle as he moves his lips down my neck.

"I don't know," he chuckles against my pulse point. "But I _do_ know that seeing you in my shirt and the fact that you smell like me is unbelievably hot. I can't wait to be inside you again."

Blush takes over my face, but I close my eyes for a moment and get lost in his touch. We're young—we're allowed to get horny in grocery stores sometimes. I melt into his body, becoming one with his as he curves his head around my shoulder to lick up and down my neck. Another giggle, which I hate, escapes from my throat when he nibbles on my ear lobe.

"Katniss?"

My entire body fills with ice.

No. Please no.

But it is. I could tell that voice anywhere. I'll never be able to forget it.

Peeta freezes behind me and I know he's seen him.

But I don't want to.

But I know I have to.

Slowly, wiping the emotion from my face, I open my eyes.

Gale.

* * *

_"Now please don't be mean to him—he's my best friend," I plead._

_Gale slips his hand into my back pocket and pulls me closer to him. We're leaning against the side of the restaurant, a brick digging into my back, waiting for Peeta to meet us. To meet Gale for the first time._

_"I'll do my best," he replies, his deep voice causing goose bumps to form on my skin. _

_I lift my head and meet his eyes—grey vs. grey. He brings his lips down to mine and kisses me hard; my knees almost buckle in response. He's getting braver and braver, pushing me closer to where he wants to go. Sex. We haven't slept together yet. It's been almost five months, and though he's respected my boundaries, I can tell he wants to. I mean—he's a guy. _

_I push against his chest and he pulls away, releasing a sigh as he does it. "He's family," I tell Gale again, reaffirming him just how important this meeting is to me. I'm starting to really fall for Gale, and if he can't like or respect Peeta, it could put an end to us. And I don't want that. I think we could be something special._

_He lifts his hand and runs it down my cheek. "Catnip, I'll be on my best behavior. I know that he's important to you and I'm sure that alone will bond us."_

_I smile, unable to help it. I hope it does. I want them both in my life. I stand on my tiptoes to bring my mouth to his once more, then grab his hand and tug him towards the door. _

_It's mine and Peeta's favorite diner. We go here when we have something to celebrate—which sounds lame, considering it's just a diner, but it was the first place he ever worked at and the food is beyond delicious._

_I wave at Enobaria, the waitress who's worked here for years, and head towards our usual booth in the back. Gale slides in first and I join his side, leaving the other open for Peeta. Enobaria drops off three glasses of water, shines us a crooked smile, and heads back to the kitchen. _

_Gale leans in and kisses my neck and I giggle uncontrollably. I love it when he does that. He attacks my neck again but I lean away from his touch, uncomfortable with the public arena we're currently in. I hate PDA, and I'm pretty sure I always will. _

_The bell above the door chimes just as Gale is releasing me from his hold, and I look up to find my best friend strolling towards us, a smile on his face; I automatically smile back. His hair is wind disheveled, his blue eyes bright, his cheeks red from the autumn cold. _

_"Hey, sweetie," Peeta greets me as he approaches. He reaches across the table, towards my boyfriend, and Gale lifts his hand to grasp Peeta's. They share a firm handshake. "It's nice to meet you, Gale. I'm Peeta." _

_"You too," Gale replies. He's a man a few words._

_Peeta plops himself down on opposite side of us and releases a contented sigh. "I'm glad this is finally happening," he says, his voice tight. I furrow my eyebrows. He doesn't seem as easygoing as he normally is. "I've been really eager to meet the guy that has my best friend goo-goo eyed."_

_I narrow my eyes and he chuckles at my expression. "I resent that statement."_

_Gale's deep laugh joins Peeta's and I sink into the cushion. _

_The lunch is filled with comfortable chatter and I watch my favorite boys talk. Or, Peeta talk and Gale nod and reply in his usual monosyllabic way. But they seem to get along. There are smiles and laughs and delectable sandwiches. _

_I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, giving Gale's hand a squeeze in parting. I quickly do my business, and wash my hands in the chipped ivory sink. I look up at my reflection and see myself looking happier than I can remember. My boys are getting along. That's all I've ever wanted. I dry my hands and dart out the door._

_The table is silent when I get back, and Peeta's grin isn't a grin anymore—it's a grimace. I furrow my eyebrows as I slide into the seat and look back and forth between them, trying to assess what happened while I was gone. But neither says anything. Gale looks unfazed, but Peeta's trying hard to hide his discomfort—I can tell. I know him too well. _

_"Well, I have to get going," Peeta says after he pays the bill, though he had to fight me for it. "I have another class to teach at 3:30."_

_I nod my head and stand up to hug him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around me and buries his face into my shoulder. _

_"I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him, remembering the hangout session we have planned._

_"Yes," he says simply before pulling away. He glances at Gale. "Nice to meet you, again." Then he's gone with a wave of his hand._

_I plop down on the seat and turn towards Gale. "Did something happen while I was in the bathroom?"_

_He shrugs his shoulders. "We just talked man-to-man. It was good."_

_I nod my head in understanding, though I definitely don't. Gale buries his head back into my neck, and resumes the kissing I cut off before lunch. But this time I don't want to cut it off. I want him. Now that I see that Peeta approves of him, I want to take a leap. _

_I pull away and meet Gale's gaze. "Wanna come over?"_

_His eyes turn hungry instantly. He knows what I'm insinuating. He's finally getting it._

_"Yes."_

_He takes my hand and we leap out of the booth and head towards the door._

* * *

"Hi."

It's the only thing I can think of to say.

"Hi," he says back. He stands at the end of the aisle, holding a six pack of PBR—his favorite. He's wearing his usual outfit: a green t-shirt, faded black converse and loose deep blue jeans. I watch as his grey eyes flame when they dart behind me. "Peeta," he practically growls.

"Gale," Peeta growls back. He's stiff with anger behind me; his hands clench possessively around my waist.

"So you're together now?" Gale asks, somehow able to sound angry and bored at the same time.

I nod my head. For some reason, words are failing me. I really hoped I would be able to avoid seeing Gale ever again. How naïve of me. I seem to have a problem with assuming things about Gale that end up never being true.

"Figures," he says, under his breath. "How long did it take?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "For what?"

His grey eyes turn mean. "How long after we broke up did it take for him to swoop in and save you?"

"That's none of your business," Peeta snarls behind me.

"I bet you were just waiting for her with open arms," he scoffs, waving his hand towards us. "And you sheep dogged her right into your bed."

"Fuck you," Peeta says, releasing his hold on me. He takes a step towards Gale. "I wasn't allowed to say that to you when you were dating my best friend, but I can now: fuck you, Gale."

"Hey." I reach out and place my hand on Peeta's shoulder, still confused with what is happening around me. "Calm down."

He instantly relaxes, and steps back to me; he wraps his arm around my waist—staking his claim. I watch his profile as his face turns smug.

Gale's glare intensifies then relaxes—his smile turning mischievous. Oh no. That's never good. "Madge is great, by the way," he says nonchalantly. "Finally satisfied."

But Peeta just laughs. Not the reaction I was expecting, and definitely not the reaction Gale wanted; his smile slips from his face. "Oh, I'm sure," Peeta says sarcastically. "That's why she's been begging me to take her back."

I watch Gale's fist clench in anger, and I can tell he's ready to go off. But I don't want that to happen. Suddenly, snapped back to reality, I take a step forward, leaving Peeta behind for a moment. "Gale, we're together now," I start, hesitantly. Then the words start to flow. "You were right all along. There was always a wedge in our relationship because even though I loved you, I was in love with Peeta, too. More. He's my best friend." Anger runs through my veins suddenly. "And I'm the one who told him I loved him first. He didn't find me vulnerable and make a move—and I'm pissed at the insinuation that he did so."

Gale's eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything. I don't know if that's good or bad, but honestly, I don't care anymore. He's not my problem, and I don't ever want him to be again.

"Let's just part ways, Gale. I'm happy now. I hope you are, too," I finish, truly meaning my words. Gale was my first love, and despite everything, I do hope he's not miserable in life. Peeta, as if sensing I need him, steps forward and takes my hand; he squeezes it reassuringly, his thumb running back and forth along mine.

"Goodbye, Catnip," Gale says, his grey eyes soft for once.

"Goodbye."

Gale turns around and exits the aisle and I immediately relax, leaning against Peeta's strong form.

"Who knew grocery shopping could be so dramatic?" he asks after several minutes of silence and immobility. I release a shaky breath and feel him press his lips to the top of my head.

Yeah. Who knew?


	19. Chapter 19

It's cold. Like the arctic. Not just outside, but inside as well—and between me and Peeta. When we get home from the store, we put away the groceries in uncomfortable, suffocating silence. And I don't even know why. Obviously, it's Gale's fault. I guess seeing him again kinda miffed Peeta.

"I'm uh, gonna take a shower," I mumble. Peeta nods his head and I let my hand trail down his arm before I leave the room.

The water burns my skin and I enjoy it. How did everything go from perfect to catastrophe in two minutes flat? I feel the tears well behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I can't let Gale win. I can't let him put a wedge in our relationship. Peeta is the one for me—I know that with certainty. And I won't let anyone make me doubt that. Ever.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in one of our fluffy towels and exit the bathroom to find the love of my life. He's sitting on the couch watching TV, a quilt wrapped around him tightly and the fire blazing.

I fall down on his lap and pull his face to mine without waiting for him to respond. He kisses me back fervently, his tongue persistent and demanding. I cut it off quickly and press my forehead against his.

"I love you more than anything. You know that right?" he says, his incredible blue eyes staring into mine.

My heart pounds in my ears. "Without a doubt," I whisper.

"Then get up." I furrow my eyebrows, but do what he says and stand up. As soon as my weight is off of him, he unwinds the blanket around himself and opens it up. "Now get in here." Chuckling and smiling, I hop back on his lap; he wraps us up together, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he does it.

We watch the TV for a couple minutes before, even though Peeta's warm body feels good, a shiver runs through my body. "Hey, why is it so cold?"

He shakes his head, his features contorting with confusion. "I'm not sure. The furnace won't turn on. I called a guy while you were in the shower but they are really busy with the sudden cold front and they won't be able to get over here until Tuesday."

"Well that kinda blows."

He nods his head. "But I can think of a few ways to keep us warm." He shines me his boyish, impish grin.

"Of course that's what you think about," I say, rolling my eyes.

Peeta feigns a look of offense. "Babe, you're the one that's naked here."

I chuckle, shaking my head. Men. They really are Neanderthals sometimes—with only one thing on their minds.

"But in all seriousness, we have a space heater in the hallway closet that we can put in our room tonight," he continues.

Nervous excitement sparks my veins. "Our room?" I question.

Peeta's mouth falls open a little, surprise igniting in his ocean blue eyes, but he quickly masks it. "Um, yeah, that's what I said."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"I'm not sure, really." His cheeks brighten with embarrassment. "But, I wouldn't be mad if we, ya know…" he trails off, scratching his head nervously.

"Spit it out, Mellark."

He releases a deep breath to gain courage, a gesture I've seen him do a million times before. "If we, ya know, moved into one room."

I…I don't know what to say. Move in together? That all seems so…permanent. And I know that Peeta is permanent, but it's different to know that in your brain and then to actually have it be carried out. It does make sense though. We sleep in the same bed every night—though it changes whose bed it is. And Peeta does have spare room in his closet for my clothes—especially if he moves his jackets and such to my closet. Plus, Peeta does have a comfy king size bed—perfect for if we ever get in a fight and don't feel like cuddling.

"We don't need to make the decision now," Peeta quickly chimes in—I'm guessing in fear of an automatic rejection of the idea. "Let's just think about it."

I nod my head in agreement and place it back in the crook of his neck that was designed for me.

The fire continues to blaze, but provides little warmth; it's not long before the shivers become constant. These next few days are going to be hellish—that's for sure. I reluctantly climb off Peeta's lap and dart into my room to change into something warm. I scan my closet, full of clothes I never wear, and realize just how much room I would have if I got rid of them. Definitely enough room for Peeta.

I shake my head, chastising myself internally. We haven't been officially together for too long, and I sometimes I feel like an utter moron for being so wrapped up in him. And I understand that I've slowly been falling in love with him for five years, but still. I can't get too ahead of myself or things will end quickly and catastrophically.

When I finally finish getting dressed, pulling Peeta's sweatshirt on over my head, I run into Peeta's room and dive under the covers.

"Hey, I'm in your bed!" I yell when I'm comfortable.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Peeta shouts back. I hear his usual loud footsteps getting closer and closer from my spot under the covers and then the soft click of his stereo; soft guitar music fills the room.

He joins me in a matter of seconds and pulls my face to his. His soft lips mold with mine briefly, before he nips at my bottom one playfully, then runs his tongue along it, teasing me. He pulls away with a grin on his face.

"That was mean," I say with a frown.

He barks out a laugh and braids his fingers in my hair before he goes in for the kill again. His other hand slides down my back and swiftly into my sweats, past my underwear, until he's grasping my bare ass in his big, strong hand.

I pull away, panting into his ear, "I said we weren't going to lie in bed all day and have sex."

Peeta nips at my earlobe. "You lied."

* * *

I'm riffling through Peeta's closet while he sleeps soundly and naked in his bed when the phone rings. I quickly answer it with a whispered hello—Peeta's been sleeping like shit since the heat went out and want him to get as much as he can out of this post-coital nap. Tuesday, my ass. It's Thursday and those douches haven't shown up yet.

"Kat!" the voice on the other line responds. And I'm instantly in a good mood. The best.

"Prim!" I squeak. I pull on one of Peeta's flannels and rush out of the room, gently shutting the door behind me. "How's Paris?"

"C'est la ville de mes rêves."

I laugh. "I'm just gonna pretend like I know what you said."

She giggles and I can almost see her bright, innocent smile through the phone. God, I miss her.

"Well, I was just calling to tell you that I'm coming home next week!"

I can't help it; I let out a shriek of excitement and bounce up and down on my toes. It's very unusual for me, but my sister has the ability to make me happier than anyone else. With one exception.

"When did you decide this, Little Duck?" I squeal, skip-jumping to the kitchen to get Peeta and myself a snack.

"Um, a couple of hours ago," she chuckles through the phone. "I've just really missed you and I have some time off at work. And I'm so freakin' excited about you and Peeta finally getting together; I've been waiting for it to happen for years now and I can't wait to see it!"

"We'd love to have you, as long as humanly possible." A rush of sisterly concern runs through me though. Prim has always been spontaneous—sometimes to the point of disaster. And I want to make sure she has her head on straight. "But I don't want you to spend too much. If a last minute ticket is too expensive, you can always wait for another opportunity." Though it would suck royally.

I hear her sigh through the phone. "Kat, I'm fine. I got a good deal, and plus I'm gonna spend like zero money when I get home—you and Peeta always refuse to let me pay for anything."

I shrug even though I know she can't see me. She has a point. I'm doing well with my job and I always take care of my sister when she needs it. And even when she doesn't.

"Well as long as you can, it would be amazing to have you back for even a brief time," I tell her.

We chat for a few more minutes, but the conversation is light and brief since she'll be here in four days. As soon as I hang up, I sprint to the bedroom with the two sandwiches I made during the phone call to tell Peeta the good news.

He's lifting his arms into the air, stretching, still lying on his back on his side of the bed. The covers are barely covering his business, the sharp V of his torso gloriously on display. I leap onto the bed and quickly bring my mouth down to kiss his bicep.

"Have a good nap?" I ask as he sits up; I promptly set down the plate with our sandwiches on his lap as soon as he's situated.

"I have a beautiful, intelligent girlfriend who can also make me a sandwich—how did I get so lucky?" He grins at me. "And yes, I slept well."

I don't wait for a set up, I just jump right in. "Prim's coming to visit on Tuesday!" I shout, my excitement still causing my entire body to hum and vibrate.

He quickly swallows his bite, his eyes wide, and his grin gets even wider. "Seriously?" he asks, his voice an octave higher than it usually is.

"Yes! She just called and told me."

His grin turns knowingly. "Ah. That must have been the cause of the shriek I heard."

I nod my head enthusiastically before taking a large bite of my own sandwich. I lick a bit of mayo from the corner of my mouth before I continue, "She'll be here on Tuesday; her flight comes in at 6:15 in the morning."

"Great," he agrees. "We'll pick her up and then I'll take her to the bakery with me and we can chill while you're at work."

I lean forward and kiss him short and hard on the mouth—disregarding the fact that it's full of bread and turkey. "That's a wonderful idea," I say as soon as I pull away. I just love that he's so fond of Prim and that they get along so well. They always have.

* * *

_Prim sets her comically large bag next to my dresser and plops down on my unmade bed. She's staying with me for the first week of summer vacation before she goes back home to start her summer job as a candy striper. Dad gave me a big lecture about keeping her safe and out of harm's way while she was with me in my single bedroom apartment in the city, and I tried to stay civil and congenial, but it was hard. Of course I'll protect Prim. She's always been my main concern. _

_"Is there anything you'd like to do while you're here? Swimming? Shopping? Biking? What sounds fun?"I ask._

_She opens her mouth to say something—when the doorbell interrupts her. I immediately frown. I wasn't expecting anyone today. Or ever. The only person that would come over is—_

_"Katniss, it's Peeta! I know you're in there!" the voice on the other side of the door shouts. I roll my eyes but exit my bedroom and walk down the small hallway to open the door. Of course it's Peeta. The guy has no sense of boundaries. He pushed himself into my life just like he's now pushing himself into my apartment. As soon as he's past the threshold, he heads to the tan kitchen counter and sets the brown grocery bag his has in his right arm on it._

_"Wow, it's weird to see you here—especially since I told you I wasn't going to be able to hang out for the next few days," I say, my voice dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm and moderate to light contempt._

_He rolls his eyes at me. "Kat, seriously, I thought we were done with the whole 'we can't be friends' shtick like six months ago, or do I need to remind you that you spend half of your nights passed out on my couch instead of in your own bed?" I shrug my shoulders, not willing to admit he's right. But being Peeta, he sees the victory in my eyes and his smile explodes. "I just wanted to meet your sister. You talk about her so damn much, I already feel like I know her; and since you're still a beginner with the whole cooking thing, I figured I'd make you ladies dinner."_

_Prim steps out of the hall, joining us, and Peeta immediately walks up to her, his hand outstretched. "It's wonderful to meet you Prim," he says, slathering on the charm; blush immediately rises to my sister's cheeks._

_"You too, Peeta," she replies. "Kat has mentioned you too many times for you to just be a passing phase, so it's nice to meet the guy who's obviously become a good friend." She shakes Peeta's hand with her right, while her left twirls and play with a lock of her blonde hair—her smitten look. _

_I roll my eyes for what feels like the ninetieth time today. Wow. Is Prim delusional? I don't talk about Peeta that much—more like ever; I didn't even realize she would know who he was at all._

_Peeta's eyes fly to me as soon as their handshake ends, bright and hopeful. "I had no idea I had an effect on you like you have on me."_

_"Huh?" What's did he say?_

_Grinning, he just shakes his head and turns around and begins to search for pots and pans in my cupboards. I'm actually surprised that he's able to find things pretty quickly. We've only hung out at my place a handful of times—mostly it's at his apartment. _

_Prim and Peeta hit it off—and that's putting it in the simplest terms. They literally don't stop talking to each other the entire time Peeta chops or washes veggies or boils noodles or kneads dough. The topics range from school and favorite sports teams to lifelong dreams and future plans._

_"I'd love to move to France," my sister says, shocking me. I've never heard her say that before. She instantly blushes and turns her gaze away from Peeta as he stirs the red sauce. "There's an incredible exchange program that I've thought about doing."_

_"You should," Peeta responds with a nod of his head. He says it with force—not like he's agreeing to the whim of a fifteen year old. He says it like he truly means it. _

_"I've never actually told anyone that before," Prim admits. "It's always just seemed so out of the question with the cost and everything that it was silly to even dream."_

_Peeta sets the spoon down next to the burner and walks over to stand across from where Prim sits on the kitchen island. He looks at her as if nothing else in the world is happening right now—and I feel suddenly uncomfortable in my own home, sitting on the edge of the island, kitty corner to my sister, watching this all happen._

_Peeta takes a deep breath. "Never let money or the expectations of others hinder your ability to dream, Primrose," he says, slow and meaningful. I practically start at the use of her full name—I didn't even know Peeta knew that. "And if France is your dream, and you are willing to work your ass off to make it happen, do it."_

_Prim is beaming before he's even finished his sentence—and it's so kind and blinding that I can't help but beam at the sight of it. _

_"I've always wanted to open my own bakery like the one my family had," Peeta continues. "I've been saving up as much money as possible since I got my first job at fourteen so that I could do it someday. And though I'm not quite there, and even though sometimes it'd be easier to just forget about my dream, I haven't and I won't. Because the day I open that bakery will be the best day of my life because I will have achieved the one thing I've always wanted." _

_The room is silent for a moment, everyone thinking about what Peeta just said. _

_"I didn't know you wanted to open your own bakery," I break the silence quietly. Peeta looks over to me, his face almost surprised that I'm here._

_He scratches the back of his head—which I've come to realize is something he does when he's uncomfortable or nervous. "I haven't told many people. I've never wanted to jinx it."_

_"Then why are you telling us now?" Prim chimes in._

_Peeta looks at her momentarily before he brings his eyes back to me; they're darker than they were before, almost sapphire. "Because I trust you; and I know that there are things about each other that we seem to understand that no one else does."_

_And with that he goes back to cooking, and the conversation turns light again between him and Prim. But I can't forget what he said. I have no idea what he's referring to, but for some reason, I can't help but believe and know that he's right._

* * *

"And hopefully the heater will be fixed by then," Peeta says, finishing his sandwich. He sets the plate down on his nightstand and burrows back under the covers to watch me silently as I finish mine. As soon as I do, he pulls me down next to him and snakes his hands up the flannel I'm wearing to the middle of my back.

"I hated waking up without you beside me," he whispers, his eyes flashing with sadness. "This was the first time since we've gotten together, if you can believe that."

I twine my fingers with his golden locks and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. "I'm sorry, Peety. I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again," I say with all seriousness.

But he just chuckles. "I realize that's impossible, Kitty. It was just a shock to see how much waking up without you affected me." He removes one of his hands from under my shirt and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "I need you even more than I thought—which is surprising, because I'm conscious of the fact that I need you an insane amount already."

My heart flutters in my chest, both nervous and happy. He's said a lot of "forever" and "need" words these last few days, and though I reciprocate them indubitably, it's still a tad, extremely frightening.

"Well I can honestly say that I'm never happier than when I wake up next to you," I tell him, hoping to veer this conversation to lighter things. I'm still not sure if I want to move into the one bedroom together yet, and I know if we continue down this path, the discussion with inevitably head there.

He smirks. "Even happier than when I make you come?" he jokes.

I bark out a laugh. "Even happier."

He kisses me without any further talk.

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry for the long-ish wait for this chapter. But I hope you liked it anyway. Unfortunately, there's probably only going to be a couple more left! EEK! I'm thinking I'll wrap it up around chapter 25! Thank you all for your love and reviews and favorites and follows and GAH! You rock! And for those of you that read my other stories, hopefully they will be updated soon as well! And don't worry! I realize that all of my stories are kind of ending soon, but I have another one that I'm working on in my spare time that I'm really excited about and I think you will be too!**

**Tumblr: ****_books-are-better_**


End file.
